The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon
by Lemust
Summary: COMPLETE Passion has found these two unlikely partners. Find out about their passionate moments in love. Warning! This is an extremely angsty story! Read at your own risk!
1. Bittersweet Goodbyes

_The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon _

By Lemust

"Come on! Just one more inch, please …" Hermione Granger gritted her teeth as she pressed all of her weight onto the trunk's heavy lid, her brow furrowed in frustration, trying to narrow the gap that was, at the moment, preventing her from latching it shut. She had, as usual, crammed as many books as possible into her trunk for a bit of what she liked to call "light reading" over the Christmas holiday. A few mismatched socks were tucked here and there, holding the books into position for the long train ride back to King's Cross Station. "C'mon!" she strained, finally resolving to sit on top of it. The lid didn't budge a bit. "Gods!" she cried in desperation, sliding back onto the floor and lifting the lid to examine the contents.

"Books, shoes, clothes, paper, quills…I can't possibly take anything out!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot. "Certainly not _The Thirteenth Use For Dragon's Blood_!" she added gloomily. It had been released only last month, and Hermione had only read through the first one hundred and eleven pages. Lavender Brown walked up behind her, laughing slightly at Hermione's desperation.

"You know what I think, Hermione?" she said kindly. Hermione whirled around to face Lavender, her face steaming and arms akimbo. She had an exasperated expression so plainly written all over her face that made Lavender giggle a bit. "You aren't mad about your books not fitting in your trunk. I think the _real_ reason you're upset is because you and Draco haven't been apart for more than a day since school began. Am I right?" she added with a knowing smile. Hermione blushed and stared at the floor. Was it really _that_ obvious? "You'll survive, I promise you that! Christmas break is only two weeks long," Lavender continued, returning to her own packing, screwing up her face in contemplation as she decided which shoes to take home. "You two can owl each other a hundred times a day!"

Hermione relished in the thought of receiving daily letters from Draco, but she was fairly sure that would not be possible. Draco would be returning to his family's mansion for break and couldn't very well be receiving mail from a muggle, let alone _write_ to one while on Lucius' turf, could he?

"Only two weeks," she muttered to herself, finally resolving to leave her pink v-neck shirt at school. It was one of Draco's favorites, but it would have to stay. He won't be around to see it anyway, she thought sullenly. Lifting it from the trunk, she disturbed a stack of photographs. One of them fluttered to the ground, landing face down on the cold stone floor. Hermione bent over and picked it up, a smile instantly lighting up her face when she looked at the faces beaming back at her.

It was the picture Colin Creevy had taken of Draco and Hermione at the Yule Ball earlier in December. They were standing in the Great Hall, framed by the ornately decorated Christmas trees, the snowflakes slowly making their descent in the background. Draco was standing behind Hermione, both of his arms wrapped around her, their hands entwined. His silvery-blond hair was tumbling into his eyes which appeared much more blue than usual, nearly azure. That's funny, Hermione mused, Draco's eyes were nearly grey when school started. She dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the picture. Draco kept kissing Hermione's cheek, making her blush and giggle.

Hermione sighed as she placed the picture back into her trunk and lowered the lid. "Only two weeks," she repeated to herself as she fastened the lock. She flopped down onto her bed. Grabbing a quill, she began to make calculations on a scrap of paper. "Fourteen days," she muttered under her breath, "That's three hundred and thirty six hours." Groaning, she rolled over onto her back. How was she going to survive that long without him? After all, one minute without Draco seemed like an eternity. Hermione held her hand up so that she could look at the ring he had given her. Peering into the dragon's sapphire eye, she could almost see Draco looking back at her through it.

"I can't take this anymore," she announced to no one in particular, and nearly ran to the common room to wait for him.

...

Draco Malfoy had been in rather bad spirits ever since he had woken up earlier that day. The sun had been shining, he was in perfect health, and breakfast had never tasted so good-- but Draco was miserable. He was completely packed, sitting silently on top of his trunk in his dorm room. Not even a glimmer of a smile was evident upon his rather pointed features; his eyes boasted a gloomy expression.

He held in his hands a small picture, one taken at the recent Yule Ball. It was an image of the two of them dancing; Draco's back was tilted slightly toward the camera, his head resting against Hermione's. She peeked over his shoulder, a look of serenity gracing her face. Hermione smiled up at him from the glossy paper, waving slightly before resting her head back against Draco's neck.

The real Draco sighed and tucked the picture into his pocket. Not only was he going to be away from Hermione for **two** weeks (an eternity), but in the same time span he was being forced to return to the Malfoy mansion, which meant returning to Lucius, to the threats, to the pressure of becoming a Death Eater. He didn't want to go back to all of that, but he really had no choice. Unless Draco was ready to confront his father about the whole Death Eater situation and face being disowned, he had to pretend nothing was wrong and revert to his old ways of life.

He shuddered at the thought of practicing the dark arts in the dungeons of their home over the next two weeks with his father by his side, the way they had all summer. He could hear his father's icy voice instructing him, insulting him, humiliating him…never praising him. The lack of feeling in the voice struck him all the way to the core, chilling him from inside out, sucking from him any consoling thought. Draco began to shake uncontrollably.

"You _will_ make me proud, Draco!" Lucius' voice sliced through Draco's mind like a bullet.

No, Draco thought, _No! I'm not going back. I **won't** go back!_

He pulled out the picture again, gazing into Hermione's cinnamon eyes. Would she be done packing yet? he wondered, anxious to talk to her. She had seemed preoccupied at breakfast but had told him to stop by the Gryffindor tower before they left to catch the train. His thoughts were interrupted--

"You _will_ make me proud as a Death Eater, Draco!" It was Lucius again, only louder this time. Draco covered his ears, trying to silence the voice that was ringing in them. This was how it had been at the beginning of the year: hearing Lucius' voice every waking hour, knowing that he had no control over his own future. Draco had become miserable, even suicidal. Death had looked far more inviting than becoming a member of Voldemort's ranks. He had been plotting it, planning it down to the last detail -- even the time his body would be discovered, twisted and unrecognizable, splayed on the rocky grounds beneath the tall tower. Jumping, he had determined, would be the ultimate form of self-liberation.

But then there was that fateful day in potions, the day when Hermione, a mudblood (as he had called her up until then), had stopped him from blowing up himself and half of the classroom. She had no reason to do it, other than the fact that she was a decent human being. That was the day Draco realized that everything Lucius had ever said about purebloods and mudbloods, and good versus evil, was wrong, just as he had always suspected. Draco had managed to turn his life around, even going so far as to talk with Albus Dumbledore about how to avoid his near-certain destiny as one of Voldemort's own. And on top of all of that, he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

Draco held his hands up in front of his face; they were trembling. He shoved them deep into his pockets and briskly walked out of the door.

...

When Draco climbed through the portrait in the wall and into the Gryffindor common room, he was met with several confused stares. The entire Gryffindor house knew that he loved Hermione, but they were a bit curious as to exactly how he knew their password (or where their common room was, for that matter). He surveyed the room quickly. He saw Harry and Ginny in the far corner, foreheads nearly touching, gazing into each other's eyes with lovesick expressions. A few months ago, the sight would have made him physically ill, but now he was quite used to the lovesick look, seeing as it was plastered on his own face most of the time. Finally, he spotted the exact person he wanted to see across the room. Not wanting to cause any trouble (and being first and second years), the Gryffindors remained relatively silent and simply watched as he traversed the space and plopped down into a large chair, opposite a sleeping Hermione. Draco didn't seem to notice all of the attention.

He sat and watched her for some time; she was curled up into a ball on the couch. Her chestnut hair was cascading over her shoulders and face like falling waters. Her eyes were closed; a slight smile hung at her lips. Rising to his feet, Draco moved onto the couch next to Hermione and took her in his arms. He lay down, pulling her on top of him. Kissing the top of her head, he gently stroked her hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her. "How am I going to survive two weeks without you?" he murmured softly, his eyes closed.

"Three hundred and thirty six hours to be exact," he heard her reply, her voice a bit muffled. "Give or take a few for travel time, of course." She raised her head and looked at him, resting her chin on his chest. "Hi," she whispered, gazing into his grey eyes. They aren't as blue as yesterday, she thought to herself.

"Hi," he murmured, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. He spoke his thoughts aloud to her. "I can't believe how fast this year is going by. It seems like yesterday that you stopped me in potions class and now it's Christmas break…I'm…" She shushed him as she ran her fingers down the his feminine lips, not looking into his eyes but memorizing every last detail of his face so that she would have something beautiful to think about during the vacation.

"I'm going to miss you so much." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I love you," she whispered, lips just barely touching.

Draco had never heard someone say that, and to hear Hermione say it, that was heaven for him.

"I love you too," Draco nearly choked out, his eyes beginning to sting. Something was really upsetting him, Hermione could tell.

"Draco, what is it?" He could never lie to her.

"I'm scared about going home," came the barely audible reply.

"Because of your father?" Draco nodded.

"He'll try to force me to join with Voldemort again, force me to sell my soul to that bastard so he can run my life!" A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye. "And then they'll burn that horrid mark into my skin…" His breath became ragged. "Oh, God, Hermione I can't go home! I can't go back to that!" He squeezed his eyes shut as she hugged him tightly.

"Do you want to come home with me instead?" she offered, completely sincere. Draco smiled weakly.

"It's just not that simple. If I don't go home, my father will know something is wrong. If I do go home…" His voice trailed off. "I'll write you, every day, I promise. Morning and night, and probably in between. I'll go crazy if I don't. Your parents won't mind, will they?" She shook her head.

"No, but yours will, won't they? If I write to you, I mean?" Hermione asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Draco did not reply, just nodded sadly. "Can't I pretend to be someone else? Like Pansy?" It was half a joke, half serious.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Mia," he said quietly. "It's impossible to hide things from Lucius." Draco no longer thought of Lucius as a father. "Even the paintings spy on me! If he finds letters from _you_ in his home…" Draco shuddered at the thought. "Even if we tried to encrypt them, I'm sure he'd find a counter-spell. Besides, he puts trackers on all of our owls."

"Won't he know that you're writing to me, then?" she asked, worried.

"No, not unless he follows me. I know how to reverse the outgoing tracking spell," he said. "I figured it out during my third year. He'll never even know the owls have gone, there are so bloody many of them. But all i_ncoming_ owls have to register with our house owlery…it's a rather complicated system, security reasons…he screens all of my mail. He read my Hogwarts acceptance letter before I did!" he laughed, a note of hurt in his voice. Hermione smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

"I'll tell you what," she said. "I'm going to write you every day, and you can read every letter on the train ride back to Hogwarts once break is over." The sorrow in his eyes dissolved for the time being.

"I sort of had other plans for the train ride back…" he said with a mischievous grin, sliding one hand behind her neck.

"Oh really?" Hermione played along. "And what would those plans entail, if I may inquire into such matters?"

"Something like this." He brought her face down to meet his and began kissing her with his usual passion. But there was something different in the way he touched her this time, different from any other time he had kissed her: something that made Hermione the slightest bit uneasy. It wasn't lust or force; it wasn't desire and hunger. It wasn't something that she even wanted to acknowledge, because at times she had felt the same thing.

It was the same unconcealed fear his eyes always held: the fear that he would never hold her again.

...

The train ride back to King's Cross station seemed to pass in merely seconds. Draco and Hermione managed to secure a compartment all to themselves, and they talked for quite a while, finally falling asleep in each other's arms. Draco awoke only a few minutes before the train arrived at the station and stared peacefully out of the window, watching as images melted together into one continuous blur of emeralds and sapphires that whipped past the glass and out of sight altogether. The sun was nearly overhead, dusting the treetops with a golden shimmer. Running his pale fingers through the tresses of caramel brown that spilled across his chest, he felt a twinge in his heart and an overwhelming sense of sadness. What if this is the last time-- he could not finish the thought.

"Mia? We're nearly there," Draco said softly as he gently shook her awake. "Mia?"

"Hmm?"

"We're almost at the station, love," he told her, kissing her on the forehead.

"Already?" came the dismayed reply.

"I'm afraid so." Draco hung his head, staring at the cracks in the floor. Questions kept darting through his mind faster than Firebolts. What if I'm not strong enough to resist? What if they force me to join Voldemort? What if I come back to school, a Death Eater? Would she even talk to me again? What if I lose Hermoine? The thoughts consumed his mind, filling him with a level of fear the likes of which he had never known. It was pulsing through his veins, becoming a permanent part of him, etching itself into the walls of his heart. He looked up to find Hermione quietly studying his face, a worried expression on hers. He tried to smile at her, but she knew better.

"Draco," she said, taking his hand in both of hers. He's so scared, she thought to herself as she lifted his hand to her lips. It was a beautiful gesture in all its simplicity. "I will always love you, no matter who your father is. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. Nothing. I know that you're scared about what you will have to face, about standing up for what you believe in, but that's what I love about you! You admit your fears and your faults, and that alone is what sets you apart from your father, and from Voldemort." Hermione was crying by now, salty tears leaving streaks on her skin. Draco brushed them away with his free hand.

"But what if I'm too weak? What if I can't resist him? What if they burn that mark onto my arm? Will you love me then?" Draco felt as though an icy hand had plunged itself into the depths of his soul and stolen from him the one shred of happiness he had ever known, leaving him as detached and inhuman as Lucius. He stood up and faced away from her, leaning his head against the wall with a hand on either side. His knuckles were white, his whole body trembling. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable…Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips against the back of his neck.

"Yes," she whispered into his ear. "I will love you even then. I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside." She felt his chest heave as he gave into bitter tears. Heavy sobs filled his chest, expressing all he could not bring himself to say or even admit. The sound stung Hermione's ears, sending currents of grief and pain through her veins-- her heart crying out for the boy in her arms.

"I don't deserve you," she heard him whimper. Her eyes widened in fear- fear of losing him to his own misery, to his retched internal struggle. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she turned him around to face her. His eyes were as expressionless and hollow as if he had just received the Dementor's Kiss, empty grey voids gracing his otherwise breathtaking face.

"Don't say that," she said in a voice both gentle yet firm in the same breath. He made no signs of having heard her, staring blankly at no particular point in space. "Draco, _don't_ say that," Hermione repeated, pressing down on his shoulders to emphasize her point. She held up her left hand, showing him the ring she always wore: the one he had given her. "Do you see this ring?" she asked. "The man who gave me this ring deserves far better than I could ever give him." A sob escaped Draco's throat. Hermione continued, looking right through his eyes and into his soul. "I wear this ring because I love him, because every time I look into the eye of the dragon, I see him staring back at me. He gives me strength and courage and love. I could never ask for more than that." Almost subconsciously, Draco's arms found their way around her body and pulled her to him: her warmth melting, for the moment, the walls of ice surrounding his heart.

The Hogwarts' Express began to slow its pace; images that had been flying past the window at a seeker's rate a moment ago now seemed to be suspended in the glass for a heartbeat before becoming merely a fleeting memory. They remained in view for ever-growing lengths of time until the train itself pulled to a stop, preserving one final frame in the window.

The sudden stop caused Draco and Hermione to lose their balance, toppling over onto the floor and out of sight. King's Cross station was bubbling over with wizards and witches eagerly awaiting the first glimpses of their children. Hermione bustled about the compartment, gathering up her things while Draco took the opportunity to watch the goings on outside. He could see a kind-faced witch with flaming red hair peering into the open windows. Suddenly, she opened her arms wide and caught a small redheaded girl in her arms, then proceeded to make a fuss over her for a while until a taller, redheaded boy showed up. The Weasleys, Draco thought. Mrs. Weasley pulled Ron into a not-exactly-mutual hug. Draco felt a pang of jealousy toward Ron at that moment. And behind Ron stood the great-and-wonderful Harry Potter, evidently going to spend the holiday at the Burrow. Even though he knew neither boy particularly liked him (although they did, for some reason, accept his dating Hermione), Draco secretly wished he were going to the Burrow as well.

His eyes darted around the crowd, picking out the other Slytherin parents, watching as the first and second years dropped all of their luggage to hug their parents, laughing a bit when one owl opened its own cage and took to flying about, causing its owner a good deal of stress. And in the center of it all, he saw a tall, pale man staring sternly out over the masses of people, arms folded across his chest. Draco's heart lurched.

It was Lucius Malfoy.

Draco had been praying that Lucius would not personally see him from King's Cross back to the mansion, but there he was, waiting with an impatient air, a sneer permanently seared into his pointed features.

Hermione noticed Draco's silence and followed his line of gaze, her eyes resting upon what seemed to her an older version of Draco. The man was tall and pale, with the same pointed features, the same lean build…but there was something different about him, something…inhuman.

They said their goodbyes on the train, neither one of them wanting to face the wrath of Lucius Malfoy if, by chance, he saw them together. Draco took Hermione's face in his hands, kissing her deeply before grabbing his trunk and bolting from the room, not even turning to look back: it would have been far too painful for him.

Her face pressed up against the glass, Hermione watched him walk away from the train at a deliberately slow pace, dragging his trunk and caged owl behind him. Lucius Malfoy remained perfectly still, moving only when Draco stood directly before him, and then it was only to bark some sort of order at him. From a distance, the two figures could have been brothers, although Hermione noticed how submissive Draco seemed compared to Lucius. A large crowd passed in front of them, blocking Hermione's view. By the time the crowd had passed, Draco and his father were gone.

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Hermione pulled her trunk out of the door and made her way toward the nearest exit. She would see him again in two weeks time; there really was no reason for her to feel so…so…but she had noticed something when he kissed her the last time that had caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Not a trace of azure had hung in his steely-grey eyes.

…to be continued…

Author's Note- _So tell me what you think! Please!_


	2. A Sealed Fate

_The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon _

By Lemust

_Chapter 2- A Sealed Fate_

Lucius did not speak once during the ride back to the Malfoy mansion; he simply stared at Draco from behind his silvery-blond hair, his eyes narrowed as he tried to read the expressions flitting across Draco's face. Although Lucius usually didn't give Draco the time of day, it was his style to at least _attempt_ to make conversation of some sort, but today was different. Draco supposed it was a form of intimidation, but also gladly welcomed the unexpected silence. It gave him time to think, time to remember why it was he decided to go on living.

The carriage kept hitting bumps, causing Draco quite a bit of discomfort, but Lucius seemed unphased by it. Now and then, he would tilt his head ever so slightly to the side, and open his mouth as if to address his son, but no words would escape his frozen lips. His eyes were brimming with a concoction of hate and loathing, the only emotions he was capable of feeling. He was concealed in shadows cast by the sun's rays as they passed through a tall stand of trees: huge, majestic oaks that seemed to bow down as the carriage passed. Lucius Malfoy was the type of man who never needed to earn respect; it simply nipped at his heels wherever life took him. He was not respected out of grandeur or brilliance, not for his good deeds (of which there were none) nor his _generous_ contributions (which weren't really quite so generous). No, he was respected out of pure fear: fear of the wrath of Lord Voldemort.

The landscape outside of the carriage window began to take on familiar shapes as the carriage approached Malfoy mansion. Draco felt a wave of nausea overtake him; he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to wipe away the unwelcome yet expected sensation. Straight ahead, Draco could see the wrought iron gates guarding the entrance to the property. Lucius had had them specially commissioned when he came into ownership of the Malfoy estate. The heavy, black bars stretched several meters into the air, twisting off to the right and left near the top in arcs -- their edges razor sharp, with thick spikes jutting out every few centimeters. In between the bars was a rather ornate latticework comprised entirely out of iron strips carefully woven together. The crowing touch was the golden letter "M" which was strategically positioned on the top of the gate so that it could be seen from quite a distance. The entire project had been a horrendously laborious task to undertake even with the use of magic, but was "Absolutely necessary," as Lucius liked to put it, "to keep out those rather unsavory neighbors…not to mention any uninvited guests…"

The gate was charmed; only pureblooded wizards (not witches, Lucius was sexist, to say the least) could pass through unharmed. Draco had never dared to touch the thing save one time when he was quite young. He and his mother had returned to the mansion only to find the gate sealed. "A test of your bravery, Draco, and of your mother's faithfulness…" Lucius had later explained to him. Narcissa could do nothing but stand by and watch. Draco's hands had shaken violently as he reached out and pushed on the doors, watching them swing inward. He had not been harmed physically, but found the thought that Lucius would have let him die disturbing, to say the least.

The carriage passed through the gates, its occupants still as silent as the moment they had entered. Has he always been so cold? Draco wondered as he watched Lucius out of the corner of his eye.

The dark, foreboding mansion seemed to rise from its lush surroundings, looking as unnatural as its master. A complete contrast to Malfoy features, the rock comprising the house itself was a dark, magic type, basaltic in composition. It was cut at unnatural angles, against the natural breakage of the rock, to prevent light from being reflected off of the surface. The windows were charmed; one could only see out of them. Standing four stories tall without the towers, upon first glance, one might be tempted to think that the house was abandoned (it looked far too unwelcoming for someone to actually live there), but then again, Lucius wasn't one for warmth or comfort. Passed from generation to generation of Malfoys, each new family made some sort of addition to the original structure, creating the rather twisted, asymmetrical masterpiece that Draco called home.

Lucius' addition had been the fourth floor between the two towers, which rose ominously from the landscape. Only Death Eaters were welcome to trod upon the new level which, incidentally, was not charmed due to the simple fact that Lucius found it rather amusing to bring some of his muggle victims there so that he and his Death Eater friends could have a bit of **fun**, namely torture, with them. Draco had often been invited (forced) to attend these gala events, dressed in his best dress robes, wearing the Malfoy crest while others paraded around in their Death Eater getup, sans the hoods.

Draco was praying that there would be no parties over this particular holiday season.

The carriage drew to a halt in front of the massive front doors. Weighing several hundred pounds each, they were engraved with snakes coiling their serpentine bodies around a decorative "M." There was no doorbell, and no handles of any sort to open them with.

Lifting the edges of his robes so as not to step on them, Draco carefully stepped down onto the drive, the gravel crunching underfoot as he made his way up toward the snake on the left. He placed his left palm over its eyes and spoke his own name allowed. A low hissing sound filled the air for a moment and then vanished just as quickly.

A tiny sliver of light jutted out from between the massive slabs of wood as the doors swung inward, allowing Draco ample space to pass through the opening. For some reason, he could not bring himself to do it. He stood, his body frozen in place-- torrid waves of fear brandishing his mind. His toes stopped at the edge of the threshold, not daring to tread an inch farther. To walk through the doors would be like walking into a nightmare: one that cannot be escaped. It would seal his fate. Entering was easy; leaving was impossible. I could run, he thought, I could run away from all of this with Hermione…they'd never find us…

"Well, boy, what are you waiting for?" Lucius snarled at him from behind in his usual hostile tone. He impatiently pushed Draco out of the way, brushing past him and into the mansion. Leaning his head against the doorframe, Draco could hear the fading clicks of Lucius' boots upon the marble floors as he made his way across the entrance hall. Now was his chance--

"Narcissa!" Lucius bellowed, his voice echoing off of the cathedral ceiling as he continued to walk through the room at a rapid pace, "Your son is home." Draco froze. Even in his most desperate hour, he could not abandon her; he could not leave his mother here, not with that maniacal bastard. It seemed as though the decision had been made for him, and so it was with a heavy heart that he took the final step, and listened as the doors began to close behind him, each creak stealing from him his precious dreams of escape from all of this madness.

A harsh gust of wind rushed over his back, whipping his robes about his legs, blowing stiffly against the nape of his neck. It was as though happiness was saying its last good-byes, leaving him with only bitter memories to sift through-- and then there was nothing. A lone leaf settled onto the floor next to Draco's feet. Eyes fixed upon it, only one word entered his mind: trapped.

"Draco!" A woman's voice rang out happily, originating from the slight figure which was hurrying down the large marble staircase in front of him, her robes flowing behind her as she ran toward him. She dived into his arms, nearly knocking him into the wall.

"Hello, mother," Draco said gently as he hugged her back. Narcissa looked into her son's face and smiled with pride, something Lucius never did. Draco was her only joy in life: her greatest accomplishment. She would have done anything in the world to keep him safe from harm, even stay with the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Sometimes Draco's startling resemblance to his father unnerved her, reminding her of the Lucius she had fallen in love with instead of the monster he had become.

"You're growing up so fast," she beamed, pushing the hair back out of Draco's eyes with her left hand. She hated not having him around all of the time. Sighing, she began to recount what she affectionately called Draco's Childhood Adventures. "I can still remember when you were only a baby," Draco blushed, "and you took it upon yourself to grab my wand and crawl from your bedroom _all_ the way to--"

"Narcissa!" Lucius' voice seemed to significantly lower the temperature in the room, for both Draco and his mother shivered at the sound of it. "Send Draco to me at once!" Draco frowned at Lucius' treatment of such a well-respected witch. It had always been Lucius' custom to order Narcissa around as if she were hired help instead of his wife.

Why she did nothing to better her situation was reduced to one simple truth: she was a prisoner in her own home. For her, there would be no escape: it was her life or her son's. Lucius had made this quite clear to her on their wedding night. "No one betrays a Malfoy, Narcissa," he had fiercely whispered into her ear only moments before he took her for the first time. "You are mine, you will always be mine; you will do what I tell you, when I tell you. Do you understand?" She had been too frightened to do anything except for nod. Lucius didn't even notice the tears sliding down her face as he ravaged her young body, making her his in every way possible…

"You'd better go to him," she whispered, staring blankly at the floor. She felt so helpless, so terribly weak. Inside, she was still just the young girl whose naïve heart Lucius had captured so many years ago. What had she seen in him? Had his eyes really always been so cold? Were his thoughts always so malicious? Hadn't he been happy once? Had he ever loved her at all? Just thinking about these things made Narcissa's body ache with the love she still felt for the man she loathed above all others. "I'm going to lie down for a while." Her mind was tired, so very tired. Thinking itself took all of her energy. Perhaps if she had left sooner, if she had not loved Draco enough to stay--

"Mother," Draco asked, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide the worry in his tone. "Is something wrong?"

So many things…Narcissa wanted to say…if only you knew.

"Everything is fine, Draco," she said, adding a convincing smile that seemed to eradicate the worry from his silvery eyes. "I'm just tired." At least that was the truth, she consoled herself with the thought. With that, she ascended the staircase, leaving Draco to stare up after her, unspoken questions still on his tongue. They would have to remain unanswered as well.

There was a mumbling sound that echoed down the empty hallway, originating from Lucius' private study. Glancing over his left shoulder, Draco could see a patch of light spilling out of the open door partway down the corridor. Hesitantly, he took a step in that direction, hoping that Lucius wanted no more than to discuss the latest Quidditch goings-on at Hogwarts. Cautiously, Draco neared the door, straining to hear whether or not Lucius was muttering to himself or engaged in an actual conversation. Wishing that he hadn't packed his wand, Draco slid silently over the marble floors, his robes gently billowing out behind as he moved like ebony sails. The scare light rays glinted off of his silvery hair, making him look like a ghostly apparition.

"Yes, Master," Draco could make out the words. "Of course, I will see to the arrangements immediately." Lucius, being submissive? He could only be speaking to one person…

Draco's thoughts were interrupted when a nearby painting announced his arrival.

"Welcome back, young master Malfoy," the aged woman spoke in a low, breathy tone. Lucius evidently heard every word for he was at the door in four long strides. Grabbing Draco roughly by the neck, he forced him inside of the study and locked the door, placing a silencing spell on the room. He whirled around, his grey eyes teeming with disgust as he looked at the boy cowarding before him.

"Afraid, are you boy?" he observed, contempt filling his voice. He began to move toward Draco in deliberate steps, never once breaking eye contact. Lucius' eyes were cesspools in which Draco watched his life spiral away. His face was now merely inches away, his breath hot on Draco's face despite the frigid voice. "Malfoys are _never_ afraid." With both hands, Lucius shoved Draco backward against the wall. A sickening crack sounded as Draco's skull connected with the cold stone, sending pain surging through his mind. He sank to the floor. A thin crimson ribbon of blood trickled down the back of his neck. Lucius did not seem to notice. He turned on his heel and walked to the large wooden desk where he picked up what looked to be a small piece of paper, nearly crushing it in his fury.

"I am going to ask you something, Draco," he said coolly, his back still turned, "and you will answer me truthfully, or you will severely regret your decision." He spun around. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, not waiting for any sort of response, and holding the paper up so that Draco could see it. Draco's vision was blurred from his head injury, but he could make out the image of two people standing side by side, waving at him: one dressed in blue, the other in black. There was a deep green in the background. Oh God, Draco thought in terror, it's a picture from the Yule Ball. He knows…Lucius noticed the look of horror on Draco's face and began to speak in a very controlled manner.

"You have shamed me, Draco. You have shamed the Malfoy name. What the hell were you thinking, taking a mudblood," he practically spit out the word, "to the Yule Ball?" Draco made no response, using the arm of his robe to mop up the blood pooling around him. Lucius wanted a fight; Draco wasn't going to allow him the pleasure. Lucius' fingers curled around the edge of the photograph. "I received this picture from a very concerned friend of yours who was kind enough to apprise me of the situation."

Probably Crabbe or Goyle, Draco thought miserably, cradling his throbbing head in his arms. So much for being "friends"…

"Did you honestly think that I wouldn't find out? Did you think you could just hide the little whore from me forever?" Draco's head shot up, his eyes blazing in anger.

"Don't you **_ever_** call Hermione that!" He spoke fiercely, the corners of his eyes beginning to sting. "You know absolutely nothing about her!" Lucius kept a straight face, his frozen eyes boring a hole into Draco's mind. Lucius' eyes were a mirror of his heart; both were so cold that God himself could not have melted them.

"I will not tolerate being spoken to in such a disrespectful manner, Draco. No son of mine will have anything to do with the Muggle world, do you understand me?" Lucius' voice did not waver as he spoke, remaining almost perfectly calm. Draco found it infuriating.

"You will break it off, do you hear me? I'm appalled that this has continued for as long as it has." Lucius' contorted his face as if he were made physically ill by the thought.

"No," Draco protested. "I will not break it off." To his surprise, Lucius did not become enraged. Instead, he did quite the opposite: he smiled.

"So be it," he whispered. Raising the picture in both hands, he slowly tore it in half and let the pieces float to the floor. "Get up," he ordered, the smile making him look maniacal. Draco did not move. "Get up!" he repeated, a bit louder. Draco met Lucius' eyes and shook his head. Lucius grabbed Draco's collar and pulled him to his feet.

"You will not defy me boy!" he snarled into Draco's face, gripping his collar as he spoke. "You will stop seeing that whore of a mudblood. You will receive the Dark Mark in two days time when Lord Voldemort arrives, and serve him faithfully as I have done." Draco's head felt as though it would explode any moment.

"T-- two days?" he stammered. Lucius eyed Draco suspiciously.

"I expected your reaction to be a bit more positive," he said skeptically, "As will our master, for that matter." His brows were twisted into a scowl.

"_Our_ master?" Draco repeated with disdain.

"Yes, Draco, our master. Unless your loyalties have changed, that is." Draco refused to meet Lucius' gaze, fixing his eyes upon the two halves of the Yule Ball photograph several feet away.

Lucius took a step backward, his mouth opened in shock. He pointed his finger at Draco accusingly but said nothing, simply staring at him in disbelief. "No," he spoke finally, "No! You are a Malfoy, Draco! You will not bring further shame upon this house! You're my son, Draco. Certain things are expected of you!"

"I'm not like you, father," Draco spoke hesitantly, watching cautiously as Lucius hand formed a tight fist. "I've never been like you." He closed his eyes as the impact came: Lucius' fist connecting firmly with his jaw, flooding his mouth with the coppery tang of blood and sending him flying backward into the edge of the desk. His back connected with a dull thud, and Draco collapsed onto the floor. Lucius stood over him, his fist bleeding slightly from the impact with Draco's teeth.

"Are you going to defy me further?" he sneered. Draco groaned, holding his hand protectively over his jaw. "I asked you a question." Draco had no chance to answer for the next thing he felt was Lucius' foot slamming into his ribs. He cried out in pain, clutching his chest. Scrambling forward, he stretched out his fingers to grab hold of the desk, trying to pull himself to his feet. Lucius' footsteps sounded behind him, each louder than the one before, each striking a note of terror into Draco's heart. His fingers curled around a solid object; he hurled it toward Lucius, who managed to sidestep it. Aiming his wand at Draco, he muttered something under his breath.

_"Crucio."_

Suddenly, Draco's body was racked with white hot pain that sliced through his flesh like knives of fire. Writhing in agony, only one thought could penetrate the blinding pain in his mind: Hermione. He pictured her face, her smile; he felt her touch, tasted her kiss.

Her words echoed in his mind, _"I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside." _

Should he submit? Should he let them mark him for life? At least, that way, he would still be alive; he would still have a chance to be with her. But if he lay here, if he died at Lucius' hand, he would never see her again, never hold her again. He would never get to tell her he loved her again. She had turned his life around, showing him the kind of person he was capable of being. Why had he ever treated her as less than human? He would do it for her; he would give himself up for her.

_"Crucio."_

Not a trace of regret was evident in Lucius' voice.

A new surge of pain twisted in his aching veins, inundating his senses completely. He knew only raw emotions: fear and pain.

"Stop!" The plea tore itself from Draco's lips. He lay sprawled on the ground, his face pressed against the cold floor. The retreating waves of agony still racked his body as his lips attempted to form the words his heart begged him not to say. "Tell our master I anxiously await his arrival." He closed his eyes, sickened by his own weakness.

"Well," Lucius spoke in a flat tone, "Your sudden catharsis will please Lord Voldemort, I'm sure." He cleared his throat and continued. "But to ensure that you are not merely trying to save your own throat, a few security measurements will be taken for your…protection."

"Such as?" Draco asked in a hoarse voice. His eyes were still burning, his head throbbing in pain. The metallic taste of blood still hung on his lips.

"You will remain locked in your room until Lord Voldemort arrives. No visitors, no owls: no exceptions." Draco sighed in defeat, nodding reluctantly. "If you so much as put one toe out of line, I will track down that mudblood of yours so that she may…_attend_ your initiation ceremony. I'm sure she'd love to join in the festivities…" Lucius had the nerve to smile at Draco at this moment, sending him flying toward him, fists flying, a continuous stream of curses originating from his bloody lips.

"You fucking bastard! Don't you touch her! I swear to God, I'll kill you myself!" Lucius was taken aback by this; he was used to having the upper hand with Draco on all occasions. He had never fully taken into account that Draco and he were nearly the same height and build until the boy had knocked him into the wall and was thrashing furiously at him. "I'll rip you apart if you ever come near her! I love her; do you hear me? I love her!" Lucius had dropped his wand in the commotion; it lay a few inches away from his outstretched fingers. Draco was still cursing him, though he had stopped flailing his arms about and was now standing up, wiping the trickle of blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He turned his back for a split second, giving Lucius time to act.

Lucius leaned forward three inches, his skeleton-like fingers encompassing the wand. Within seconds he had Draco in a full body bind, hovering a few feet off of the ground. He peered into the boy's frightened visage and shook his head in utter loathing.

"I warned you," he said in an icy tone laced with sick, twisted humor. He bent down and picked up the two halves of the photograph. He shredded Draco's face further, tossing the tiny bits into the fireplace, but he held up the picture of Hermione and looked from it to Draco. "Just know that you've sealed your own fate…and hers. She'll make a wonderful party favor." His tongue darted out of his mouth and licked the length Hermione's face, distorting the image. It amused him to see the anger boiling over in Draco's eyes. Raising his wand, he muttered something unrecognizable.

Darkness invaded Draco's mind, and he surrendered to it willingly.

…to be continued..


	3. Longing

_The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon _

By Lemust

_Chapter 3- Longing_

Draco awoke several hours later, his face pressed up against the cold stone floor, his body still bruised and bloody from his confrontation with Lucius earlier that day. There was a ringing in his ears, a high-pitched whine of some sort that coincided beautifully with the invisible streaks of pain that flashed before his eyes as he tried to lift his heavy eyelids and ascertain his whereabouts. At first, everything was blurry, one big mix of blacks and grays all swirling together into a monochromatic image that seemed to spin across his line of vision, sending waves of nausea flowing and ebbing through his mind.

There was something familiar about the settings, though he could not seem to place it. Perhaps the smell, he thought, inhaling deeply, though the air was so cold it masked any particular odors. He winced in pain as he struggled to sit up, his body completely numb from the cold that had inundated his senses. His fingers groped blindly, grasping onto anything possible; they curled around a bar of some sort and with his legs bowing beneath him, Draco pulled himself to a standing position. The spinning objects before him paused momentarily, allowing him a glimpse at whatever his hand was gripping. _A bedframe_, he realized as the swirling recommenced.

He was in his own bedroom.

Night had fallen upon the Malfoy manor, leaving Draco immersed in inky blackness broken only by the thin slivers of moonlight prying their way through the drawn curtains on the opposite side of the chamber. The fire in his room had been extinguished, Draco guessed, shortly after he had been locked up because his fingers were like ice, and it stung to even curl them the slightest bit. His head was throbbing, sending pulses of anguish throughout his trembling frame as the memories of what had happened came rushing back to him in a torrent of bitterness.

Lucius, holding up the picture of the Yule Ball, insulting Hermione's honor, calling her a mudblood. Calling her worse.

Draco, refusing to leave her, refusing to denounce her name, refusing to deny his love for her.

_"You will stop seeing that whore of a mudblood. You will receive the Dark Mark in two days time when Lord Voldemort arrives, and serve him faithfully as I have done." Draco's head felt as though it would explode any moment."_

_Two days, two bloody days_. He remembered fighting back, swinging blindly at Lucius through the crimson streaming into his eyes, fighting for his freedom, for his life, for Hermione.

He could feel the fist connect with his jaw, the desk jabbing into his back, the floor rushing up to meet his face, Lucius' foot smashing in his ribs.

He remembered lying on the ground, feeling helpless and worthless, not possessing the strength to stand up to his own father.

"_Are you going to defy me further?_" Lucius voice still rang cold and merciless in his ears. He had not yielded.

"_Crucio_."

A blinding hot flash of pain had surged thorough his fragile veins, shredding him apart from inside out, turning over his world and inundating his thoughts, drowning his hopes and warping his reality into this single moment of excruciating pain--

"_Crucio_."

Agony. Utter agony.

Death had been such a beautiful option, holding open his arms and welcoming Draco into the depths of eternal darkness, a world with no pain, no suffering, no prejudice…

But then his thoughts had turned to Hermione, his beautiful Mione. He knew he could not die without seeing her, without warning her, without protecting her from this maniacal Dark Wizard standing over him, cursing his own son.

_"I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside..."_

She was right, the mark itself couldn't make him evil, but it would always be there, a reminder to him of his past, of that moment, of the pain coursing through his body—

NO! His mind had screamed at him, DON'T SAY IT DRACO! But the pain had been too much, the image of Hermione in Lucius' arms had been too sickening…what would Lucius do to her?

For the longest moment, he had not been able to bring himself to say the words but with his last drop of strength they had escaped his lips—

"_Tell our master I anxiously await his arrival_." And he hated himself for his own weakness.

A fresh stream of tears bathed Draco's face in a glistening sheen of salty anger and hurt, his chest heaving as the sobs overtook his battered body. He collapsed upon the bed, burying his face deep into the covers, tearing at them with his teeth in anguish, emotions so real and raw and vivid that they were tearing him apart.

"What have I done?" he sobbed, his fingers clenched around the blankets, the delicate threads breaking under his grasp.

Two days. And he would belong to Voldemort forever.

...

"Hermione? Honey, dinner's ready!" Hermione groaned and rolled over on her bed, setting the picture of Draco on her nightstand as she rose to her feet and slowly plodded to the kitchen. She hadn't even been away from Draco for a full twelve hours yet and still she felt miserable and sick inside. She decided that this was rational behavior, seeing how she was in love with him and all and wanted to spend the rest of her life showing him in every way possible how wonderful he really was.

_He should be here, with me_, she thought to herself in vain, _not home with his father_. Hermione had never been formally introduced to Lucius Malfoy, but knew enough of him from reputation that she was scared to death for Draco's safety while he was residing in the Malfoy mansion. There had been something she had noticed earlier, something about the way Lucius had regarded Draco as he walked from the Hogwarts express toward the waiting carriage. He looked at him with utter revulsion in his eyes, certainly not at all how a father should view his own son. She began to wonder if perhaps he knew, if he had somehow heard about the Yule Ball, about her.

A chill shot up her spine as she realized what would happen to Draco if Lucius found out about the two of them. He had told her before, though he had skipped most of the details, of his encounters with Lucius' fists when the heartless monster was angry with Draco. She remembered looking at him in horror, not believing that someone could be so cruel to another human being, but the look in Draco's eyes had told her differently. They held a haunted expression, vacant at times, and it terrified her to think that she might lose him to the phantoms that lived within his tortured mind. She had hated watching him relive those horrible memories, his eyes swimming in briny tears as his lips had made futile attempts to form words…there had been moments when he could not speak at all, his throat constricted by emotions too powerful to express.

"You'll always love me, right?" he had asked her afterwards, no longer looking like the Draco she loved but a lost and scared boy trembling in her arms.

"Always," she had said very gently yet firmly, trying to reassure him through touch and soft kisses that she meant it. "I will always, _always_ love you, Draco." And she knew deep in her heart that was the truth.

Hermione slid the chair out from the table enough so that she could slide into her seat, propping her elbows up on the table as she rested her head in her hands. _Only two more weeks_, she kept telling herself, though it wasn't much help at all. Her parents sat on the opposite sides of the table, one to her left and right. They said nothing to her at first, simply glanced at her and then to one another, shrugging it off as a lack of sleep on Hermione's part.

Not really thinking about anything but Draco, Hermione piled her plate full of whatever it was sitting in front of her, though the flavor wasn't evident through all of her musings. She lifted the fork in her hand, staring numbly at the tongs as the light reflected off of the metallic surface, casting little rays of light onto the wall behind her. The silvery color reminded her of his eyes. Everything reminded her of him.

She recalled the first time they met with one another. It had been so romantic, although they hadn't tried anything yet. He had asked her earlier that day to meet him one room. It was extremely out of his character to do that, but up he went and prepared himself to face the girl he taunted for so many years.

_"I owe you an apology," he had started. "Ever since I met you, I have treated you like an inferior. I thought that being a pure blood meant that I was automatically better than you, above you. But I'm not." He looked down at his hands. "I hate myself for making you cry." She looked at him, astonished.   
  
"When have you seen me cry?" she asked gently.   
  
"You cried earlier today, I saw that."   
  
"But you didn't make me cry, then. That was Crabbe-"   
  
"I've made you cry before. I know I have because I used to revel in it. I used to love to watch you cry. But now…I don't even know why I ever called you a mudbl-" He couldn't finish the word. He closed his eyes. "I grew up thinking that my father was always right, that everything he said was the truth. He was the one that told me that purebloods were the only true wizards and stupidly I believed him."   
  
"What made you change your mind?" Her voice was calm. He looked into her eyes.   
  
"You." He said it almost in a whisper. "I have watched you the past six years. You're so talented, Hermione. You can transfigure things better than the entire class and even Snape would have to admit that you're awfully good at potions." He smiled at her. "I watched you and then I looked at other purebloods like me, and I realized that what my father said was crazy." His voice grew serious. "I got into the habit of making fun of you to cover up for the fact that I was so jealous. And to make my father proud. I pick on Harry because he's so famous. And I pick on Ron because he is your friend. I still want to smack myself for what I said this morning to him." He hung his head. He had never said any of these things to anyone, ever. "Hermione, I know that this is a lot to ask, but, could you ever learn to forgive me for being so stupid?" he pleaded._

"Hermione, dear, would you pass the potatoes?" her mother asked sweetly, obviously missing how very upset her daughter was (or so it seemed).

"Hmm?" Hermione answered, not having heard one work her mother just said.

"The potatoes, please," she said again, still acting a bit confused by Hermione's behavior.

"Oh," she said, a bit dazed. Her father spoke up.

"Are you all right, then, Hermione?" Worry was evident in his deep tenor voice. She smiled sweetly at him and nodded. He looked appeased and glanced at his wife. "Glass of wine, Allegra?" She thought for a moment and then shook her head. "Well, I'm going to have one. Excuse me." Anthony Granger rose from the table and walked into the kitchen, and Hermione could hear clinking noises while he bustled around in the cabinets.

"So," Allergra said with a knowing look now that her husband was out of earshot. "Who is he?" This caught Hermione completely off guard, and she regarded her mother with a dumbfounded expression. Hermione hadn't inherited her brains from just anyone, and she knew it, so it was with a sigh that she sat back in her chair and began to fill her mother in on the details.

"His name is Draco. Draco Malfoy," she began, watching her mother's expression change a bit.

Her brows twisted into a bit of a thoughtful scowl. "Malfoy, haven't I heard that name somewhere?"

"I think I've mentioned him once or twice." That was quite the understatement, considering that in the past, Hermione used to make fun of Draco incessantly.

"And you two are…" she waited for Hermione to finish the sentence.

"Dating." She blushed a bit.

"Since when?"

"September."

"Is he smart?"

"Very."

"Handsome?"

"Yes!" Hermione reddened further.

"He treats you well?"

"Oh, yes."

Allegra smiled, obviously pleased.

"Is that from him?" she asked, pointing to the ring on Hermione's hand. Hermione nodded. "It's beautiful," she commented. "Will I get to meet him?"

"I hope so," Hermione's voice trailed off as her thoughts turned to what Draco was doing at that very moment. Little did she know that he was being beaten to a pulp by his father a few hundred miles away.

"And do you have a picture of this boy?"

"I'll go get it." Hermione rose from the table and practically ran to her room, returning a few moments later with the picture clutched to her chest. She proudly showed it to her mother, who smiled and put an arm around her daughter.

"You look lovely together," she commented as she watched Draco kiss Hermione on the cheek in the picture.

"Thank you," Hermione's voice became a bit choked. She gazed down at the photo of Draco, and then at the ring on her left hand, her smile bittersweet.

Hermione then remembered their first kiss.

_"Draco, I forgive you." She kissed his hand. She had finally made up her mind after a few days of thinking about forgiving her enemy. But she had meant everything she said. At that time, she had the biggest crush on him, and that had turned into love over these past few months._

_"I forgive you," she whispered.   
  
"How can you forgive me so quickly?" His eyes glistened a little bit. "I've been awful to you. I treated you like you weren't human…" his voice wavered.   
  
"Draco, listen to me." Hermione ran her fingers down the side of his face. "I forgive you." He shook his head. "I forgive you," she said, louder this time. He looked up at her, tears welling up in his eyes. She leaned forward, taking in his scent, the softness of his hair. Their lips were nearly touching. "I forgive you," she whispered.   
  
She kissed him very gently. His lips quavered against hers. She slid one hand behind his head and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Her fingers became entangled in his hair. Draco slowly wrapped his arms around her, melting into the feel of her mouth on his. Hermione could taste his tears as they dripped down his face. When she finally pulled away, they sat, gazing into each other's eyes. He traced the outline of her jaw with his finger.   
  
"You are so beautiful," he whispered. He kissed her gently. She rested her head upon his shoulder, taking in the feel of his arms around her, protecting her. "I could stay like this forever…" he murmured. "Hermione?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Can we stay like this forever? I don't want to lose you, not now."   
  
"I don't want to lose you either, but Draco," she spoke softly, "If anyone finds out about us, it's likely to cause a stir."   
  
"I know," he whispered, marveling in the softness of her skin. "I know."_

…

"Allegra?" Her father's voice rang in from the kitchen. "There's another one of those owls at the window. What should I do? Let it in?" Hermione's heart started to beat rapidly. _Draco wrote already? _He had said that he would write her night and day, though she hadn't really expected anything until the following morning. Hermione giggled at her father's reaction while her mother stood up and walked into the kitchen, taking the letter from the owl and giving it a bite to eat before sending it off again.

"That was a rather impressive owl," she commented while handing the envelope over to Hermione, who was grinning rather ridiculously. That faded when she saw what was written. "I've never seen one quite so well groomed." She reclaimed her place at the table, watching intently as Hermione studied the handwriting.

It wasn't Draco's style at all, much more flowery and twisted, much more…feminine. _Who else would be writing me? _Hermione wondered, still rather disappointed. She turned the letter over in her hands, squinting her eyes to make out the seal embossed into the paper. It was, without a doubt, a rather ornate "M" with serpentine figures coiled around the character. _Malfoy_. Her heart skipped a beat, a funny feeling rising from the pit of her stomach. She felt uneasy all of a sudden.

"May I be excused?" she asked, not waiting for a reply but instead quickly making her way to her desk where she carefully opened the letter and read its contents. The writing was shaky, as if it had been scribbled in a great hurry.

_Miss Granger,_

_I have reason to believe that my husband wishes harm toward you and your family. Unless I am mistaken, Death Eaters are already on their way there. I know my son loves you and would want you to know this. Take whatever precautions are necessary to keep yourself safe. Send no reply to this owl. _

_N. Malfoy_

The figures approached noiselessly, their feet not making one sound as they glided over the soft carpet, wands in hand, concealed by the shadows, seeming to emerge from them. Their faces were covered in hoods, not one of them recognizable underneath the yards and yards of black fabric. Cowards, that's what they all were, having to hide underneath the name of Voldemort, covered from head to toe to avoid persecution. Somehow, the hoods and the fabric and the name combined made them feel powerful, something they had never had in the wizarding world.

Hermione never had time to scream as the hand clapped over her mouth, muffling her protests as her wrists were bound in some sort of crude rope. The letter floated to the floor, resting just underneath the desk and out of sight. She thrashed around with her legs, trying desperately to bite the fingers pressed up against her lips.

"Stupefy!" A nearby voice whispered, and she could not move. Her eyes stayed open, darting about the room, the corners beginning to sting as she thought of her parents across the house in the kitchen.

"What about the others?" A husky voice cut through the silence.

"He said, 'only the girl'." A third, more whispery tone broke in and with a popping sound, the entire group plus Hermione apparated from the room, leaving only the letter behind as any sort of evidence to where they might have gone.

Allegra and Anthony were sitting at the table, waiting for Hermione to return after having read the letter. She was stirring her coffee quietly while he sipped on his wine, both of them worried about their only daughter. Hermione had left the table in quite a hurry with a panicked expression on her face.

"Do you think she's okay?" Anthony asked.

"I don't know. Perhaps we should check on her?"

"I suppose…maybe it would be better if you went?" Allegra nodded in reply and stood in one graceful motion. She approached Hermione's door, knocking softly as she entered, expecting to find Hermione sobbing on her bed or tearfully looking at the letter (which she had assumed came from Draco). But the room was empty.

"Hermione?" she called out, but there was no reply. Her voice echoed through the empty bedroom, sending icy chills down her spine. Something seemed…she couldn't place the feeling. Panicked, she looked in the closet, in the bathroom, in the hallway, in the guest bedroom. "Hermione?" she called again, but again she was met with silence. _Something is wrong_, she thought. She rushed back to Hermione's bedroom. _Something is horribly wrong_. "Anthony?" she called out, placing her hand over her heart as she lowered herself onto the bed. He rushed into the room, took one look at his wife's face and slowly turned a sickening pale color.

"Where is she?" he managed, his voice strained and very thin.

"I don't know," Allegra whispered amidst her ragged breaths. "She's gone, Tony, oh God, she's gone!" She was in hysterics, hugging her arms around herself and slowly rocking back and forth. "I knew this would happen! I knew it! The minute we let her go off to that school—"

"We don't know that this had anything to do with Hogwarts, honey, just calm down." He said it more for himself than his wife, his own face betraying the fear that was seeping into his veins.

"Who else would have done this? It's probably that—that Sirius Black she talked about so much a few years ago. Remember him? That murderer has our baby!" Clearly, she was beyond all reason. Anthony was shaking violently, nausea churning up the food he had just eaten. Where could she be? Who would have done this? And why? Why—the owl. The letter.

"Where's the letter? The one the owl brought at dinner?" he asked frantically, suddenly tearing the room apart, throwing pillows this way and that, opening drawers, pushing aside stacks of books. Frustrated, he pushed his hair out of his eyes, Allegra was still sobbing on the bed, and then he saw it: the corner of the parchment was just barely sticking out from under the desk, evidently dropped there when Hermione was taken. She never let anything fall to the floor, she was a stickler for organization. With trembling fingers, he lifted the letter and skimmed over hastily written words.

"Allegra?" He knelt beside her; she refused to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. Look at me, Allegra." He took her face in his hands and brushed her tears away. "Have you ever heard the name 'Malfoy' before?" She shook her head at first, then blinked twice, and nodded fervently.

"Y-yes, her…her boyfriend, Draco, that's his last name. Malfoy." She gasped. "Oh my lord, you don't think that **_he_**—"

"No, no, this isn't his doing. Look." He held the letter up for her to see. She read it while holding her breath, her face draining of its color.

"W-We have to do something, we have to tell someone. Call the police!"

"And tell them what? That our daughter was kidnapped by," he glanced to the letter in his hand, "Death Eaters?" he read, spitting out the words.

"Yes!" she wailed. "No, I don't know!" She covered her face in her hands. Anthony looked at her helplessly for a few moments with a pained expression.

"Wait, wait…the, uh, the school! They must have someone there that can help, someone who we can contact, or, or…"

"How? How do we contact them?" she rose to her feet, pacing the room anxiously, wringing her hands as though they were wet towels. A loud popping noise sounded in the next room and Allegra shrieked as a rather odd looking man with a long crooked nose and half moon spectacles dressed in splendid purple robes strode into the room, extending his hand to them.

"Please excuse my entrance, Drs. Granger," he said, shaking both of their hands. "I'm Albus Dumbledore. The ministry has been alerted of Dark Arts activity in this area. There really isn't time to explain, I need both you and Hermione to come with me immediately. We have reason to believe—"

"But Hermione isn't here!" Allegra choked out. "They took her!"

"What?" Dumbledore said, fear blatant in his eyes. "Who, and when?" His tone was very serious. Anthony handed him the letter, using his other arm to pull his sobbing wife to his chest. Dumbledore's face grew stern as he perused the note, a strange sound emanating from his throat as he neared the end and tucked it into his robes. He cleared his throat and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I was afraid something like this might happen." He looked them both in the eye before continuing. "Your daughter is now in the hands of a man who many consider to be Lord Voldemort's most ruthless supporter. I take it Hermione has mentioned Voldemort to you before?" They nodded. "Lucius Malfoy is not someone to be toyed with. His son has been seeing your daughter since the beginning of the semester. Draco isn't like Lucius; you needn't worry about that. He wants nothing to do with the Dark Arts or with Voldemort, but unfortunately, his father has other plans for him."

"Other plans?" Anthony whispered.

"Draco is to be the next in a long line of dark wizards, Lucius will see to that. Draco came to me earlier in the year and we spoke about how to avoid this fate of his, but he was rather reluctant to denounce his family and give up everything he had ever known just like that. As much as it hurt me to do, I supported him. I still do." He shifted his weight a big, pushing his spectacled back up his nose. "He loves your daughter. If you could see how they look at each other…he would never let any harm come to her. If Draco has to choose between Hermione and his fate, I know that he would gladly suffer for her any day, I am sure of it." He rose to his feet in one deft movement, surprisingly agile for someone his age. "Though I hope it will not come to that." He glanced toward the windows, seeing how dark it was outside. "The ministry has rooms set up for you both for as long as it takes for this matter to be resolved. With Death Eaters in the area, it isn't safe for you to remain here and although we could charm the house, I do feel this is the best answer for the moment." The Grangers nodded numbly. "Tell me," Dumbledore began, "Have you ever traveled by Floo powder?"

...

Draco lifted his head from the mattress, pillow lines pressed into his pale skin. He groaned and rolled over onto his back. The pain had dulled, yes, but the memories were still there, plain as day. _What time is it?_ he wondered, glancing about the darkened room. He reached for his wand only to discover it missing. Groping in the darkness, he made his way to the dormant fireplace, kneeling before it as though it were radiating some sort of heat. Could he light it without a wand? _Desperate times call for desperate measures_, he recalled Hermione having said once while explaining the rare occurrences of wizards in unusual circumstances being able to perform magic without a wand. _Harry did it a few times_, she had announced to him. He felt rather foolish, _but if Potter could pull it off_...he held his hands out in front of him and breathed out the spell that lit the fire.

"Ignitio!"

Nothing. He tried it again, this time louder, and he could have sworn that he saw a small spark throw its light rays around the room for a moment. In desperation, he yelled the word, watching in surprise as a flame leapt up from the logs, slowly consuming the wood until a roaring fire had commenced. Draco looked at his hands in pride, feeling the blood beginning to flow back into his fingertips.

_Thank you, Hermione_.

The name penetrated his thoughts, making him smile and become agitated in the same moment.

_Oh my God. I have to warn her_.

By the light of the fire, he searched through his desk, pulling out a spare quill, some ink and a small scroll. Returning to his place by the fire, he contemplated exactly what he would write. He knew there would be no way for the letter to be mailed, but he took up a quill anyway and began to scratch away at a piece of parchment in front of him, pouring out everything in his heart.

_Dear Mia,_

_I hardly know where to begin but to tell you how sorry I am for all of this. If it hadn't been for me, you would never be in this terrible mess. You have no idea what I'm referring to, and I'm glad of that, because if you did, I would feel even worse. There is no easy way for me to say this except for straightforward, and knowing you (which I do), I know that is how you would want to hear it. _

_He's coming for you, Mia, Lucius, I mean. He's coming after you. That is why you need to leave, to get away now, right now! I could not live another day knowing that he might hurt you. Go anywhere, **anywhere** please, but go now. Don't wait another second. _

_I can't mail you this letter. I am a prisoner in my own home. I have no way to send it except in my heart, but I had to warn you, had to let you know how much I care about you. You are my life, Mia, the only thing that I have to live for. If it weren't for your love and support, you know that I would be dead now or worse: a Death Eater like my father. You said that you would love me even if they burned the mark into my flesh, but I can't ask you to do that. I love you too much, Mia, I won't do that to you. I won't jeopardize your future because of my own selfishness. _

_What happened, you ask? Do you even need to? It is nothing that hasn't happened before. He hit me, kicked me, beat me until I could hardly stand it. And all the while I stood up to him, I spat in his face, cursed his name. I fought back, I told him I wasn't like him. Do you know what he did? He said I was a disgrace to the family name. He held up his wand and said, "Crutio." My own father wanted me dead; the man who created me wanted me dead. He still does. He doesn't care, not about me or anyone, just himself and his "master." Two days, Mia, I have two days left before I become what I hate the most. I couldn't' take the pain. I can't even begin to describe it to you. I didn't want to say it, I didn't want to give in but I did. I feel so ashamed of my actions, of my own weaknesses…I gave in. And now I have to pay the price. _

_I won't let you pay for my mistakes. I won't watch you be shunned by the wizarding community when they all find out that the man you love is a Death Eater. I can't believe I'm doing this, Hermione, this is the last thing I've ever wanted to do, but I won't ruin your life. Once that mark is on my arm, you can't come near me, promise me that. This hurts me to write, if you could see me now, I'm in agony as I write these words. I am doing this for you, Mia! Promise me that you'll never come near me again. _

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be braver. I'm sorry I can't hold you and tell you that I love you. I'm sorry that I'll never make love to you and hold you all night long in my arms. I'm sorry that I'll never get to introduce you as my wife. I'm sorry that we won't be able to raise our children. They would have been beautiful, Mia, just like you. I'm sorry that we can't grow old together. _

_I wish I could see you, hold you, kiss you just one last time…I wish I could hold you forever. I love you more than life itself. That is why I'm begging you, stay away from me. I can live out my life content in knowing that you are alive even if I can't be with you every moment. _

_I love you, Mia, now and forever. Never forget that; never forget me. _

_Yours always,_

_Draco_

The quill hit the floor as Draco buried his face in his hands and wept bitter tears.

... to be continued…


	4. A Living Nightmare

_The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon _

By Lemust

_Chapter 4- Her Living Nightmare _

With a popping sound, the group of Death Eaters appeared at the gates to the Malfoy manor. Lucius peered through the bars, his steely eyes narrowed as he watched them carry a stunned Hermione across the path and approach the gate.

"Well?" he inquired impatiently.

"We have her, Lucius," answered the airy voice.

"Excellent. You know where to take her," he replied. He pushed the gate open with one hand, the Death Eaters carefully stepping through it. He fell into step with them, leaned over and whispered into Hermione's ear, watching her expression change to one of utter horror. "Do you realize that if you touched this gate, you would die mudblood?" It pained her heart to watch him; he so closely resembled Draco. "Of course, I don't want to kill you now. Not when Lord Voldemort will be here in two days time to take care of the matter himself…" He smiled at her, the coldest smile she had ever seen. Her blood seemed to freeze up in her veins at the mere sight of it.

"Enjoy your stay."

He rested his cold hand on her cheek, tilting her face ever so slightly in order to look into her frightened eyes. His were an icy grey color, dull, almost lifeless…empty, just the way Draco's had looked on the train. They were entrancing, mesmerizing, and for a slight moment, Hermione could have sworn that she was just looking at Draco, that this was all a nightmare, that she would wake up in his arms and everything would be as it had been.

A nightmare made perfect sense. This was far too surreal to be reality. Draco had been filling her head with Lucius horror stories, so it really shouldn't be all that abnormal to dream about experiencing one. After all, Draco had told her about the gate before…hadn't he? And surely this mansion she could see in the distance was merely a figment of her imagination, something concocted from the myriad of vague descriptions Draco had given her, albeit unwillingly, during their many discussions. She wasn't **really** in a full body bind, no, hadn't she read about this in a muggle book once? Something about dreams? She racked her brain for answers.

_I must be in bed with the covers too tight. That's why I think I can't move_, _she rationalized_. _If this is a dream, I should be able to control it. I should be able to make him take his hand away from my face._

As if by her command, Lucius lifted his fingers from her skin and smiled smugly. He saw a glimmer of triumph in Hermione's eyes and narrowed his own.

"What are you smirking at girl?" he demanded as he directed her hovering form toward the mansion. His breath curled up in cloud-colored wisps in the air. The other death eaters were now a good ten meters in front of them. Hermione tried to speak, but it seemed as though her vocal cords were also bound by…the sheets. Lucius realized this and waved his wand impatiently. She felt a slight tingle in her throat and found herself forming words.

"You're just a dream," she declared in a half whisper. "A figment of my imagination, and I- I can control you." Lucius burst out laughing.

"You…control me? You're quite mistaken, mudblood. There is control here, yes, but not as you picture it. You have no power over me; I control you." He put firm emphasis on the final word. He directed his attention toward the death eaters, who were now a lengthy distance away. "Go on a bit, gentlemen. I'd like a private word with Miss Granger. Wait for us at the door." They acknowledged this with a nod and hurried up the drive.

_It's all in your head, Hermione. All in your head. Focus and you can awaken from this. This isn't real; this can't be real. I can't be here, this isn't happening. I'm at home, asleep. I fell asleep at dinner. Yes, that must be it. Mum mentioned having heard of the Malfoys. That is why I'm dreaming of Lucius._

_Oh lord, please…tell me I'm dreaming -- _Hermione struggled with her common sense to come to terms with the situation, but a sharp breeze bit at her face and took with it the little shred of hope to which she had been clinging._ -- But I'm not dreaming, am I? This, what's happening, the spell, the mansion, everything…it's all real. _

Lucius stopped walking and turned toward her once more.

"I assure you, insolent mudblood, that this is indeed real. This is no dream that you can control, nor my son, whom I understand you have been seeing behind my back." His voice was now a low snarl, very accusatory. "You had no right to seek him out, to pursue him, though I can't say I blame him for being mildly interested." It sickened Hermione to hear Lucius demean her relationship with Draco in such a manner. "You are a tempting little morsel, aren't you?" Being likened to a possession, a mere trinket, was unnerving.

He traced along her jaw line with his thumb. Hermione's stomach twisted at his touch. She felt physically ill, almost violated by it. His face was mere inches from hers, his breath spilling across her cheekbone where his finger stroked, the whisper of his voice ringing in her ears. She winced inwardly, her facial muscles still frozen by the spell. He smirked and resumed walking, Hermione's body floating after him like an obedient dog.

"He doesn't really love you, surely you realize that," he went on casually, brushing a snowflake from his pristine black robes.

Lucius was sleek, agile, beautiful to the eye yet cold to the touch. He moved in a slinking manner, his robes billowing out behind him in a liquid grace. He smiled coldly at her, his eyes glinting with something…He had such a cold, cruel voice. What had happened to this man to fill him with such hate, such loathing? He had no warmth in him, no mercy. He could not feel anymore. The only feeling strong enough to penetrate the wall that surrounded his heart was hate. And hate fueled him, drove him to want to destroy the lives of others, including that of his own son. It was as if happiness and love drove Lucius over the edge; they were both foreign to him anymore. Hermione wondered if he had ever known them at all.

"Draco is a Malfoy, a pureblood, the sole heir to our family name. He has certain responsibilities, expectations to live up to. You must understand, Draco is young and impetuous." The snow crunched underfoot. "He wants a few thrills before accepting his destiny. I was no different at his age." He folded his arms across his chest. "You, as he told me, were rather…convenient " Glancing at Hermione over his shoulder, Lucius' face sported a look of utter pride, his steely eyes masking whatever lay inside of them.

"Told you?" Hermione repeated, not believing for one moment that Draco would have used her, could have done such a horrid thing. Maybe the Draco he had been two years ago could have managed it, perhaps even the Draco of two months ago, but now he seemed so changed, so different. He was utterly unlike the boy Hermione had met on the Hogwarts express several years earlier, the one who had proceeded to make fun of others to mask his own insecurity. He was completely unlike the boy who had tormented Hermione in potions for years, taunted her in the halls, harassed her in every conceivable manner. Hermione believed in the ability of people to change, to mature, to develop into someone else over the course of a lifetime, or perhaps merely a few short months. _We are who we are, people don't change_. She'd heard that somewhere before and had frowned upon the idea then as she did now.

Draco loved her, she knew this and would have sworn her life upon it. He loved her as she loved him, unselfishly. Their love wasn't convenient; it was practically forbidden, crossing barriers and tempting scorn. At the same time, these qualities are what made their love so unique, so rare, and so very strong. They had both been willing to ignore the limitations, fight the controversy head on. That's what made their love so genuine.

"Yes, he has told me all about you in his frequent letters home," Lucius drawled. Hermione knew perfectly well that Draco never wrote home unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, his letters, as he described them, were very concise and to the point. He left no room for interpretation.

"Letters?" Hermione played along with the little game. Lucius nodded.

"Why of course! Draco has always kept me well informed of the goings on at Hogwarts, such as the recent Yule Ball, for example. He mentioned that he took his…oh, now _how_ did he phrase it, "Gryffindor plaything" along for fun. Said they caused quite a stir…" He met her eye and paused, mock horror on his face. "Oh!" he exclaimed, clapping a hand to the side of his face. "I do hope he didn't mean you!" Something in his eyes revealed that he knew otherwise.

_The Yule Ball? How does he--? Anyone could have told him. The whole school was there. _

Thoughts and flashbacks clicked in her mind.

_The Gryffindor girls were frantically rushing about in their room, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of their dress robes and eek the last bit of hair tonic out of their bottles. Hermione had spent the afternoon trying to control her hair, which kept trying to fly up at strange angles. Her blue dress robes were lying across her bed. She stared into the mirror in front of her. She dreaded the evening before her as much as she looked forward to it. She was not terribly excited at the prospect of sitting and watching other people dance when she could be dancing with Draco. And for all she knew, he might even dance with someone else. Maybe even that horrible Pansy Parkinson. Hermione shivered at the thought.   
  
She looked down at the tiny dragon on her finger. The sapphire sparkled when she turned her hand one way or the other. She gave the dragon a small kiss.   
  
Ginny had already been in the room three times already to ask if anyone had some earrings that she could borrow. All three times, the sixth years had told her no, but she was rather tenacious. Parvati and Lavender were concocting the perfect perfume to wear for the evening. They tried at least seventeen different scents before finally deciding on a classic vanilla fragrance for Parvati, and a fruity scent for Lavender. Parvati was going with Ron and Lavender with Neville. Neither of them expected to stay with their dates very long, but they decided they should at least smell nice for them.   
  
The time up until the ball was waning. Hermione had been thoroughly made over by Parvati and Lavender. Her lips were tinged red, her eyes rimmed with grey. Her cheekbones stood out against her otherwise pale face. She looked older, more mature. Her hair was finally under control, swept off of her face in a sort of twisted arrangement, which Hermione could not see the back of for the lack of a second mirror. All she had to do was put on her dress robes. Sighing, she stood up and walked over to them. They were a beautiful shade of periwinkle blue. She smoothed her hand over the soft, satiny fabric.   
  
On the other side of the school, Draco stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair into place. His dress robes were black but stylish. He smiled at himself, trying to convince himself that he possessed confidence. Everyone in Slytherin was dying to know who Draco's secret date to the ball was (He had been forced to say that he was going with someone when Pansy had batter her eyes at him and insisted that they go together). And tonight, they would find out. Everyone would. He didn't want to hide Hermione away in a closet forever. He wanted to show her off.   
  
"Hermione, are you coming?" Ginny called from the common room. Hermione smoothed the front of her dress robes, took one last glimpse of herself in the mirror and started down the stairs. She was the last one to enter the common room. All of the other Gryffindors turned to look up at her. Ginny was clinging onto Harry's arm. Harry, in his dark green robes, was smiling at her. Ron, in his fancy black dress robes (a secret present from Harry), and Parvati were discussing the new perfume scent, and Neville was gaping at Lavender's beauty. Under normal circumstances Hermione would have laughed at the situation, but she was sad that she would not have anyone to enter the ballroom with.   
  
She trailed after the other Gryffindors, following them down the winding hallways of Hogwarts to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall was supervising the entrance. When she saw Hermione standing alone, she immediately walked over to her.   
  
"Why Hermione! Don't you have a date for this evening?" She looked surprised (though not as surprised as Hermione was to see that Professor McGonagall's usual bun had been replaced by an elegant French Twist).   
  
"Oh, well, yes but not exactly, you see-" Hermione stammered, not sure exactly what to say. She was mortified at the moment.   
  
"I only ask because Mr. Malfoy, you see, does not have a date either and I was thinking," there was a twinkle in her eyes, "that perhaps the two of you could enter together." Hermione looked behind Professor McGonagall and there, walking out from the shadows, was Draco.   
  
She had never seen him look like this. His face was flushed with excitement, his eyes a vivid shade of blue; not a trace of gray was to be seen in them. His blond hair just covered up his forehead. His eyes lit up when they met hers. She could not take her eyes away from him.   
  
Professor McGonagall smiled. "I'll have the table arrangements moved," she said. Neither one of them really heard her, but they both nodded and walked toward each other.   
  
"You," Draco said, beaming with pride, "look absolutely beautiful." Hermione blushed. "I'm serious. You look beautiful every day but tonight…" He twirled her around. She laughed.   
  
"Thank you. You look very nice yourself." He offered his arm and she took it. Both of their hearts were beating a million times a second, it felt like. They neared the entrance. Hermione could hear the couples in front of them announced. "Miss Lavender Brown escorted by Mr. Neville Longbottom."   
  
"Oh, before I forget," Draco said as he handed Hermione a white rose. She mouthed, "thank you" to him, gripping his arm tighter. "Are you nervous?" he asked.   
  
"About what, blowing our cover?" She laughed a little. "Yes, but I'm excited about it too. We won't have to live in secret any more."   
  
"No, we won't." He smiled down at her. "I can't wait." He didn't have to either because the next thing they heard was,   
  
"Miss Hermione Granger escorted by Mr. Draco Malfoy."   
  
Silence fell over the Great Hall as the two entered, arm in arm. There was no sound, from anyone. With the exception of Professor McGonagall, the other professors had stopped whatever they had been doing to join in the staring. Snape had his goblet halfway to his mouth, the expression on his face was absolutely indescribable; Dumbledore was scratching his ear; Professor Sprout had the expression, "Oh!" frozen on her face. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stared at one another and over at Hermione and Draco, just to make sure that they had heard correctly. The Slytherins just stared, their mouths open. Pansy had a look of complete horror on her face and was giving the evil eye to Hermione. Crabbe and Goyle kept mouthing, "What?" over and over. Several of the Gryffindors looked at each other, completely confused. Neville and Lavender smiled. Ron was beside himself, ready to roll on the floor with laughter. Ginny's eyes were wide. Parvati was bewildered.   
  
But Harry Potter gave Hermione a huge smile and started to clap. He was soon joined by the rest of his table. The applause slowly spread around the room until even Snape found himself joining in. Draco led Hermione over to the table where Harry and Ginny were already seated. The eyes of the entire hall followed them.   
  
"Well," said Harry with a grin after they sat down. "You two certainly know how to make an entrance!" The last of the couples slowly trickled in, none of them receiving the attention that Draco and Hermione were enjoying. Dumbledore motioned for the band to start playing and soon the Great Hall was filled with music. Harry and Ginny stood immediately and rushed over to the dance floor. Ron was thinking of excuses why he couldn't possibly dance, much to the dismay of Parvati. Neville was trampling over Lavender's feet, but both of them looked as though they were having a good time.   
  
Draco took both of Hermione's hands in his.   
  
"Dance with me," he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes. She smiled at him, her eyes shining.   
  
"In front of everyone?"   
  
"Why not? Everyone has seen us together already. I don't want to hide this anymore. We have nothing to be ashamed of." He kissed her cheek and stood up. "Come on," he held out his hand. "We'll make them all jealous." Hermione stood up and took Draco's outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her out to the middle of the dance floor. A slow song was playing. The entire room seemed to turn in order to watch the two of them together. Hermione was a bit taken aback by this and she stiffened, visibly uncomfortable.   
  
Draco placed one hand on Hermione's waist and enclosed her hand in the other. Slowly, they began to sway back and forth to the rhythm of the song. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to ignore the people that were staring at the two of them. She felt herself melt against the heat of Draco's body. She gently leaned her head against his shoulder. His arm slid further around her waist, pulling her up against him. She breathed deeply, taking in his scent. It comforted her. She relaxed, moving her hand to the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. It was the perfect moment, the kind only found in dreams.   
  
"Hermione?" Draco spoke softly. His eyes were half closed, lost in the moment.   
  
"Yes?" He pulled back enough so that he could look into her eyes.   
  
"Hermione," his voice wavered the slightest bit, "I --" he choked on the words. His eyes anxiously searched her face, trying to convey what his voice could not.   
  
"I love you too, Draco." She couldn't speak anymore. She smiled as the tears spilled down her face. Draco leaned forward until his lips were just barely touching hers. "I love you so much-" her lips met his. He kissed her gently._

Lucius then turned away from her again, forcing her to focus on the platinum strands tumbling about his shoulders. "How thoughtless of me. I suppose, then, that I shouldn't tell you the way he described, in explicit detail at times, what went on during that dance." He did not wait for any response but instead continued to speak in an overly-sympathetic tone. "It must have seen ethereal, no? Dancing so closely to my son, someone above you in every imaginable way." Despite the falsity of his words, they stung her ears sharply. Even the thought any of this could be true…but of course, it wasn't. _It couldn't be_. "I imagine you must have been elated when he declared his love for you amidst so many spectators." _People could have eavesdropped_…"Draco was always a fine actor. How did he phrase his words to you? Something like, 'I love you, I'm in love with you!' I would imagine. That was always the line I advised him to use. Works like a charm." Hermione shuddered at Lucius' accuracy, but decided that it was either a coincidence or Crabbe and Goyle had been listening a bit too closely at the ball. "And finally, kissing you in front of everyone the way he did…I would surmise that it even felt real, didn't it? I would certainly hope so, since he's certainly been practicing with Pansy for so many years…" he checked her expression, now mired with doubt and hurt. "He has told you about Pansy, no?"

"Yes," Hermione muttered in response. She knew very well how much Draco despised Pansy. He would often complain about the obnoxious manner in which she overtly persuaded him. _"A parasite,"_ he had called her more than once.

"Excellent!" Lucius exclaimed. The death eaters had now disappeared behind a stand of trees along the long, twisting drive. The bare branches were covered in a delicate layer of ice. They looked barren, dead, and were quite fitting for the Malfoy estate. "Then you realize that Draco and Pansy are to be wed upon his graduation from Hogwarts?" This was not something that Draco had mentioned to her, so it came as quite a shock. She knew all about his expected place by You-Know-Who's side, but Pansy? That was an obstacle she hadn't considered yet. _If I were to marry someone like Pansy_, she mused, _I wouldn't mention it either_. But still, it hurt her that Draco had failed to apprise her of his marital status, which was, technically, "engaged." _Perhaps he doesn't know of the situation?_ she thought hopefully.

The shock in Hermione's eyes told Lucius exactly what he had wanted to know. "Why, I'm surprised that Draco never mentioned it to you! He has been looking forward to wedded…" he swallowed hard, "_bliss_ for some time now." They rounded the stand of trees and the great, dark walls of Malfoy manor suddenly arose before them at the end of the drive. "Pansy will move into the East Wing of the mansion with Draco, as Narcissa" he swallowed again," joined me here just after our own graduation. As you see, there is no place for you in Draco's life." The way Lucius kept stumbling over thoughts on marriage and his own wife struck Hermione as odd. He was trying his best to make Malfoy married life sound glorious, when in reality, it was fairly obvious that he believed the exact opposite. "They are a perfect match for one another. Everyone believes so; our entire circle is thrilled with the pairing. Imagine it, will you? My son and his pureblooded wife standing arm in art, watching as the newest generation of Malfoys romp about the family grounds…"

He cleared his throat. "Do you understand me now, Miss Granger? My son is not possibly in love with you."

_No! _

"Oh, he may have feelings for you, I don't doubt that, but they'll all fake, you see, the moment you don't give him what he wants. He wants you only for your body, nothing more."

_That isn't true. _

"You are a plaything for him, a source of amusement. And as for that ring on your filthy little hand, it is fake."

Hermione fingered the ring rested on her ring finger on her left hand.

_"Hermione, I have something to give you." Draco had said. They both sat up as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object. It glistened in the starlight. He handed it to her, watching her face for her reaction.   
  
"It's beautiful," she said, turning it over in her hands. It was a ring, made entirely of gold, in the shape of a dragon. Its head was thrown back, as if in a great roar; its sapphire eye was sparkling. She turned to Draco. "Thank you." He slipped it onto her left hand. She kissed him softly.   
  
"You know that if I could, I would tell the world that you are my girlfriend." He studied her eyes. They remained bright despite a definite weariness.   
  
"I know," came the quiet response._

She remembered what he had told her, how he had held her. Her eyes flashed angrily. _No, no, Draco loves me! _

"Despite what he may have told you, he has no plans for a future with you." Lucius continued.

_It's _**Pansy**_ he has no future with, not me. _

"He will take his place as my heir and accept the responsibilities that come with his name."

_He wouldn't do it willingly. Wait, that's it-- _

"If Draco is so eager to marry Pansy, to accept this destiny you have created for him, why bring me here like this?" The smile spread across Lucius' face as they neared the mansion.

"Why, I would have thought that you, Miss Granger, would have figured that out already!" He laughed coldly. "I can't very well have you around disgracing Draco's good name once he is married, nor can I have you running off to Dumbledore spouting details of Draco becoming a death eater. It isn't too good for one's reputation with the Ministry." He watched as she visibly paled. "Lord Voldemort will be arriving in two days time, when Draco will pledge himself for life to our master. It is quite an elaborate ceremony, all of the death eaters will be there." He stopped for a moment, his eyes darkening. "Well, all of the loyal death eaters, that is. We've had some traitors among our ranks in the past." He looked almost haunted for a second, then continued. He cleared his throat. It is customary for the newly inducted member to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord by performing the three forbidden curses upon someone he knows well, perhaps even has slight feelings for. You are prefect in Draco's case. It's a wonderful tradition: humiliation first, then pain, and finally –" he met her eye, "Death." He watched as her eyes grew wide in terror, reveled in the fact that her lips were now a pasty white. "It is necessary to know the victim personally, you see. The inductee is never told the identity of the one chosen for the ceremony. It comes as quite a complete surprise, I can assure you."

"And what happens if one refuses?" she asked through her chattering teeth, her breath curling up in the brisk air around her.

"What, refuses to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord?" Hermione nodded. "Then both he and his chosen victim perish at the hand of our master." His tone made Hermione believe that he spoke the absolute truth.

Horrible sensations coursed through her veins: currents of pure fear. She realized that when the time came for Draco to be inducted into the Dark Lord's inner circle, he would be forced to kill her. There would be no other way; he would have to kill her to ensure his own life. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as the realization became clearer to her. If he refused, they both would die. But to die at Draco's hand, to allow him to live knowing that he would be forced to live out the rest of his life alone, harbored by the guilt from causing her death, almost seemed more horrific than dying by his side. It would be two lives lost instead of one, but the Dark Lord would be the one with blood on his hands, not Draco.

Lucius caught sight of the solitary tearstreak shimmering against her now-ashen skin. The chill in the air froze the droplet during its descent, and Lucius flicked it away with his finger.

"Tsk, tsk, there's no use crying about it, you know. For you, this should be rather flattering, being allowed to associate with pureblooded wizards and even getting to die like one. You don't deserve it, really. It is quite an honor if you think about it." The crunch of the snow that had sounded underfoot now became a distinct clicking sound as Lucius ascended the marble steps leading to the front door. Hermione's eyes focused on the great serpentine figure coiled around a glorious "M" adorning the wooden slab. Lucius placed his hand over the serpent and spoke his own name; the door slowly creaked open.

With an impatient air, Lucius motioned to the man with the airy voice. "Do run on ahead and see that Miss Granger's accommodations have been properly prepared." The death eaters followed him through the door, leaving it cracked slightly. Hermione remained out in the snow. Hermione could hear nothing more than muffled sounds and whispers from inside the entrance hall. These lasted for perhaps a minute or two, finally being swallowed up by the breeze that blew past, bringing with it a handful of snowflakes that settled happily on Hermione's eyelashes and melted into her eyes. Lucius chose this moment to poke his head out of the door. Her vision now significantly blurred, Hermione would have sworn on her life that she was looking at Draco. Childish tears spawning forth, she fought back the urge to cry.

With a wave of his hand, Lucius directed Hermione's still form through the door and up the grand staircase that lay before her, turning left onto the landing.

"I'll have you know that while I was considering just tossing you into the dungeons," he said with amusement in his voice, "I realized how inhospitable that would have been of me." They walked slowly, the other death eaters crowding behind Lucius, eagerly awaiting…something. They passed by great portraits of the previous generations of Malfoys, each painting expressing its dislike of a mudblood in the vicinity.

"Really, Lucius…" sniffed one particularly snobby-looking woman with very overdone blond curls as they walked past her.

The group turned sharply and started down a long corridor that ran perpendicular from the landing. The hallway was dark, a striking contrast to Lucius' pale colorings. Even the shadows seemed to be watching them.

Lucius moved with a purpose, a smirk fixed on his lips. He reached the door end of the hallway and placed a pale hand on the knob, turning it to the right and listening for the click. The door opened soundlessly.

"Your room, Miss Granger." With a jerk of his head, Hermione floated into the dark chamber, her eyes darting about furiously. Lucius and the death eaters crowded in the doorway and watched her silently. There were no windows in the room; the only light came from the corridor, eerie and flickering, cast by the torches that adorned the hallways.

_Why are they just standing there? What's so…what was that?_

Something had clearly just brushed past her face. Something **hairy**. There was not enough light to see her surroundings…but…wait…was the floor moving? A streak of white darted past her eyes, and then another, the _thing_ finally settling on her leg, just out of sight. She could feel it moving through her robes. Her body still bound by the spell, she could do nothing but lay absolutely still as it began to walk over her leg, like a cat, but she knew that this was not a cat.

"Get it OFF!" she screamed, but Lucius merely looked at her with a confused expression.

"What on Earth are you talking about, Miss Granger?" he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes spoke otherwise. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Whatever it is, get it off of me!" she shrieked, squeezing her eyes closed.

"There is nothing in the room with you, I can assure you of that. You must be hallucinating." He turned toward the man on his left, drumming his fingers on his arm. "I trust that the…connection we spoke of is in working order?"

"Yes, Lucius. The boy will be able to hear everything."

"And she—"

"Will hear only howling, growls. Whenever he speaks, that is. She'll be terrified, I assure you."

"Extraordinary." He glanced back at Hermione once more, finally releasing her from the spell. She fell to the ground with a great thump and immediately began to brush frantically at her leg, thrashing her arms about wildly in an attempt to ward off whatever it was dive-bombing her head. Her sporadic screams were causing glorious rounds of laughter among the spectators.

"Oh, Miss Granger?" Lucius called out as he began to pull the door shut. She looked up, her eyes filled with terror as the only light source began to fade. "As I said, enjoy your stay."

"Nooo---!" The door closed, blocking all sound from within. Lucius smiled to himself as he made his way back to the main entrance hall, the death eaters tagging along after him.

Hermione was now enveloped in complete darkness, alone, cold, and something was crawling up her back.

...to be continued…


	5. Do You Love Me?

_The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon _

By Lemust

Chapter 5- Do You Love Me?

Hermione silently rocked herself back and forth, wondering how she was ever going to survive the night. She felt things constantly crawling up her spine, and then trickle back down her leg. She screamed the entire night, wondering what had she ever done to deserve this kind of hell?

Thoughts of Draco then drifted back into her mind. 'It's not his fault!' she kept telling herself. But as she thought of all the reasons as to why she was here, it all limited it to down to him.

'I still love him!' she told herself. But at that time, it didn't really matter. What she wanted to do was go home. Yet, most of all, she wanted to see him. She missed him so much. Hermione remembered another time when they had been so comfortable, finding solace in one another's arms.

_It was about ten minutes before she was supposed to meet Draco one night, and Hermione still hadn't worked up the courage to talk to Harry about the invisibility cloak. She wasn't supposed to go up to the boy's dormitory, but she seriously doubted that Professor McGonagall would catch her. It wasn't like Professor McGonagall would be there, either.   
  
She tiptoed out of her room and down the staircase. She traversed the common room and started up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Once she reached the top, she slowly opened the door. 'Which one is Harry?' She wondered. It was awfully dark in the room. She finally saw his glasses laying on a nightstand by one of the beds. Very quietly, went to his side and shook him awake. He sat up with a start.   
  
"Who is it?" he asked sleepily.   
  
"It's me, Hermione. I need a favor."   
  
"At this hour? You're not even supposed to be in here." He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder.   
  
"Yes, I know. Listen; can I borrow your invisibility cloak? It's just for tonight." Harry mumbled something that she couldn't understand very well. It sounded something like, "What is it with girls?" but Hermione couldn't be sure. He reached underneath his bed and drew out the silver material.   
  
"Be careful with it," he whispered to her. "Where are you going, anyway?"   
  
"I will, thank you Harry!" She kissed him on the cheek and ran down the stairs, clutching the invisibility cloak. Harry stared after her, bewildered that she hadn't answered his question. What was she up to? He had to know. If Hermione was doing something stupid, as her friend, Harry was obligated to help, right? It sounded good to him, anyway. He fished around in his drawer for the Marauder's Map.   
  
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said to it. The intricate map of Hogwarts unfolded before him. Thank you Dad, Sirius and Professor Lupin, he thought. Harry couldn't see well in the dark. "Lumos," he said, lighting up his wand. That still didn't help, so he reached for his glasses. Much better.   
  
He could see Hermione's dot racing out of Gryffindor tower and toward the entrance to the school. When Harry looked there, however, he did a double take. In the front hall was another dot, which was waiting (or so it appeared) for Hermione. This can't be right, Harry thought. Hermione's dot approached the other one, and Harry watched in horror as the two went through the front door and out onto the Hogwarts' grounds. Hermione is _seeing_ Draco Malfoy?   
  
Hermione and Draco ran hand in hand across the grass until they came to a small area surrounded by bushes. There was a tiny bench there, just big enough for two. They draped the cloak over their legs, laughing when they disappeared. Draco put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him. The time had come to tell her.   
  
"Hermione," he said, his breath could be seen in the cold air. "I have to tell you something awful." She looked into his eyes with a pained expression.   
  
"Are you okay?" she asked, worried.   
  
"I hope so." He looked up at the stars. "Hermione, my father wants me to become a Death Eater." He heard her gasp. "Soon. I don't want to join with Voldemort. I don't even think like that anymore. But I don't know what to do. I can't let down my father, it would disgrace my entire family. But on the other hand, it's my life." He felt her settle against him.   
  
"Draco, your father cannot make you do something that you don't want to do." She reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I know you. You are strong and you will get through this, we both will. Together." He kissed the top of her head.   
  
"I just feel so lost sometimes." His voice was quiet.   
  
"I know you do," Hermione said gently. "Everyone feels lost at one point in their lives." She ran her fingers down his arm and took his hand in hers. "You know what I think you should do?"   
  
"What?" he closed his eyes and leaned against her, their fingers entwined.   
  
"I think that if you are really seriously against this, you should talk to Dumbledore. He'll protect you against Voldemort and your father, if he has to. And if worse comes to worse, you can always stay with my parents and me. Or Ron's, I know they'll take you in."   
  
"You would do that for me?"   
  
"I would do anything for you, Draco." Her voice faded at the end of the sentence. His grip on her hand tightened as his heart sunk.   
  
"I think I'll talk to Dumbledore tomorrow," Draco said quietly. Hermione settled against him again, gazing at the ring. He slid his arm around her, holding her close.   
  
"Draco," she began.   
  
"Yes?" The reply never came. Draco looked down to see Hermione fast asleep, her lips turned up in a smile. He smoothed her hair with one hand. How had he ever lived without her?   
  
When Hermione awoke, she was in Draco's arms, being carried back to the Gryffindor common room. She had disclosed its whereabouts to him weeks ago. He had draped the invisibility cloak over the two of them. She breathed in deeply, taking in his musky scent. She loved that about him. She loved so many things about him. His strength, his kindness.   
  
Draco stopped walking and slowly lowered her to the ground. He ran his fingers over her face and bent down to kiss her. Her eyelids fluttered open.   
  
"You fell asleep," he whispered. "I brought you back to your dormitory. Will you be all right?" She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. God, she could never get enough of him. Draco then pressed their foreheads together while they both closed their eyes.   
  
The Fat Lady was quite confused. She could hear voices but had no idea where they were coming from. "Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?"   
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," Draco said as he kissed Hermione goodbye. He pulled off the cloak and started down the hallway. Hermione turned back to the painting, still concealed by the cloak. She was about to say the password when the painting swung open.   
  
"Hermione? Is that you?" It was Harry. Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak off of her head and climbed through the wall. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" he whispered to her. She shook her head. "Hermione, it's almost two in the morning! Where have you been?" It was no use keeping it from him any longer. She walked over to the armchair closest to the fire and sat down, hugging her knees.   
  
"I took a walk outside." It was _partially_ the truth.   
  
"Hermione, I could hear voices in the hallway. I know that you were with someone. And I know that it was Draco Malfoy." He stopped, a bit enraged.   
  
"How could you know that? We were whispering. You couldn't possibly have heard his voice through the wall." She looked at his guilt-ridden face. "You didn't, you wouldn't, Harry-"   
  
"Wouldn't what?"   
  
"You did, didn't you? You were spying on me with that map of yours! Harry, you had no **right**-" Her voice was growing louder.   
  
"I had every right!" He hissed at her. "What were you _thinking_? How long has this been going on?" He was fairly sure he knew that answer already. Hermione sighed and gave in.   
  
"Do you remember the day when Crabbe said I wasn't even a girl and Draco yelled at him?"   
  
"Yes," Harry answered.   
  
"Ever since that night, we've, um, we've been seeing each other." She saw the look on Harry's face. "He's not a monster, Harry. He's everything that I have ever wanted. I'm finally happy, Harry. Please don't take that from me." Harry's face softened.   
  
"Do you love him?" The anger was gone from his voice. Hermione nodded.   
  
"Yes," she whispered.   
  
"Is that from him?" He pointed at the ring on her hand. She nodded again. He inhaled deeply and then let the air out very slowly before he spoke again. "Hermione, I won't say anything to Ron or to anyone about this. If you really love him, I support you completely. I just don't want to see you hurt."   
  
"I know, Harry." Hermione closed her eyes.   
  
"Hermione, wake up." Harry stood up and walked over to Hermione. "You're going up to your own bed before McGonagall finds you down here. Come on." He ushered her over to her staircase. He gave her a quick hug and then went up to his room. Hermione smiled, glad to have a friend like Harry. She slowly climbed the steps, spelling out Draco's name on the side of the ring. D-R-A-C-O, D-R-A-C-O. She continued in this pattern all the way to the top.   
  
She settled into bed that night, gazing at the tiny dragon on her ring finger. "I love you, Draco," she whispered to it before falling into a deep sleep. _

He was in her dreams, as always.

…

Draco woke up to the sounds of screaming coming from another room. It was definitely channeled in from the deep caverns of the floors below him, he knew it. And those sounds had been so extremely recognizable, he just couldn't think of why it was. Suddenly, it all clicked. Lucius! 'That sadistic bastard,' he thought. 'He took Mia here! Fuck…'

He pranced about in his room, trying to figure out what he would do next. No ideas would come to his head. He punched the wall in frustration as more tears slid down his cheeks. He shifted his weight on his feet, listening to the sounds of her crying coming from the other room. Oh, how much he had wanted to go over there. At that moment he wanted to hold her, soothe her with kisses and reassure her it would be alright. He, for once wanted to be her hero.

Draco pranced up to his bed, his hair flying wildly into the pillowcase. He held it in his chest, trying to pretend it was her. 'It was stupid,' he thought, but who cares. Suddenly, another idea popped into his mind. He fingered his official Malfoy emblem ring on his left hand, feeling it the way she had done it to him. It was that night, before the Yule Ball.

_Hermione held her breath as the door opened wide. Someone stepped inside and closed the door. It was Draco. He saw her sitting on the couch and immediately went over to her. He pulled her hands away from her face and saw that she had been crying.   
  
"Hermione, oh my god, what is it?" He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. She continued to cry, burying her face in his neck. "Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?"   
  
"No," she whispered into his ear. "You'll think this is so stupid."   
  
"I will never think that anything you have to say is stupid, Hermione, never." He moved his hands in slow circles on her back.   
  
"Professor Dumbledore mentioned the Yule Ball this morning at breakfast and, and-" She started crying again. "I want to go with you more than anything in the world but I'm afraid that if we do…" She stopped to take a breath.   
  
"Hermione, we'll go to that ball. We may not be able to walk in together but we'll both be there. I promise."  
  
"Why do we have to be from the two houses that hate one another?" It didn't seem fair. She wanted nothing more than to be able to walk into a room and declare loudly, I am Hermione Granger and this is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. "We won't be able to dance, will we." She sounded miserable.   
  
"We'll dance, Hermione. Even if it isn't on the dance floor, even if we have to find an empty hallway, we'll dance." He kissed her gently on the lips, pulling her closer. His tongue met with her lips and they opened slightly. Their tongues began to dance with one another, reminding Draco of the flames he had watched months ago.   
  
When the kiss ended, they sat side by side. He gripped her hand. "I spoke with Dumbledore this morning before breakfast," he said. "He told me that he would do everything in his power to help me stay away from Voldemort. I don't have to become a Death Eater after all." He felt relieved. Hermione hugged him.   
  
"I'm so proud of you. You're the bravest person that I know. I love that about you." Embarrassed by her last comment, she kissed him quickly. "Well, I have to study this afternoon, but I'll see you tonight?" He kissed her back.   
  
"Definitely. Right here?"   
  
"Right here." She smiled and left the room. Draco leaned back on the couch in amazement, "I love that about you…" No one had ever said that to him before, not even his parents. Hermione loved his bravery. Did that mean, perhaps, that one day, she might love him too? He sighed as he departed the tiny room and started back towards the Slytherin common room._

…

A week had passed without any hesitation. Draco and Hermione still haven't seen each other, but now that Voldemort had arrived, everything had changed.

Draco was brought into the room where the ceremony was to be taken place. He was brought to the room by other Death Eaters, who had to strangle him and bring him in with uncertainty. He wondered if somehow, just a little bit, if there was any hope. He had talked to Dumbledore a few months earlier, and the old wizard was concerned about his life. Hopefully, the Order would arrive and beat these sadistic people once and for all.

Oh, his poor, sweet, Hermione was still locked in that filthy room with nothing, not even a window to look outside. She must have been so hungry, having nothing to eat for days. He knew that his father wouldn't even think of trying to give her food, it was no use anyway.

A few feet away, his father was standing near a pole in this Death Eater room. Lucius stared proudly as his son as he was taken to Voldemort's feet.

"Can we start, my Lord?" The older Malfoy asked.

Voldemort smirked. "Where's the girl?" he asked evilly.

"Oh yes… her!" Lucius said, recalling the moments of Hermione.

"What do you mean? Are you saying you forgot about her?" Voldemort demanded.

Lucius bowed down earnestly. "Yes, my Lord. I am ever so sorry. Would you like me to go and get her?"

"Get her? Of course! She's the only reason why he'll do this!" The demon ordered. Lucius thinned his lips, pushing them inside ashamedly. How could have he have been so stupid as to forget her? The older man straightened himself, and sighed.

"Yes, my Lord." And with that, he left the room.

Draco watched as his father went out of the room. At least he'd be seeing Hermione… but not for long. His hands were tied behind his back, and as silent tears dribbled down those high cheekbones, he couldn't wipe them away. Voldemort looked at him in disgust, but in a way he was relieved. The only way he could pledge himself anyhow was to kill someone he had affection for. Even if it was just a little bit, such as 1%. But if it was only 1%, he would have wanted to kill Pansy instead.

'Damn them,' he thought.

A few minutes later, Hermione was brought into the room. Her hands were all stained with blood, her eyes were puffy and red from all the crying that she had inevitably done. Her hair was more disheveled than ever, and she hadn't taken a shower in days. Lucius scrunched up his nose as he held her collar with one long hand, and then released her from his death grip.

"Ah!" she cried as she fell over to the other side of the room. The brunette merely looked around, before spotting him. _Him_.

'Think good thoughts!' she said. 'Don't think of the bad! You're going to be dead anyways. Might as well make the best of it!'

But no thoughts came. She couldn't think of anything but being trapped inside this small, abandoned cell.

Voldemort finally raised his hood, and beckoned for his followers to untie Draco. He collapsed on the side of the floor, before picking himself up carefully. Hermione too was locked to the floor, and they slowly, slowly tilted their heads in unison. He tried to smile at her, but no smile came back from her. She looked so cold, and fragile. Her eyes were saddened as if gray had washed all around her.

He held out his hand, trying to tell her to pull her hand out too. Hermione just stared at him.

'She hates me now,' he thought. 'I can't go living without her.'

"It is time!" Voldemort commenced. He walked slowly over to Draco, folded the sleeve on his left arm, and roughly scraped a mark on his skin. Draco gasped, and Hermione immediately widened her eyes. She couldn't take this. She couldn't take anything anymore! She looked around the room frantically, trying to block out the sounds that her lover was making out from the pain.

After he finished scraping, Voldemort took another deep breath, before staring back at Hermione. "Get the knife!" Ordered Voldemort. "Tie the girl up. It's time!"

Lucius smiled evilly from his corner of the room. He remembered the first time he did it as well.

_Cassius Malfoy looked around the room, turning his head towards Voldemort. The two smiled wickedly, before bringing Lucius into the room. He too was smiling. And just as soon, he saw Evelyn. She too had brown hair, almond shaped eyes, and a curvaceous body. Not only that, but she happened to be the smartest witch in school. They fell in love under the stars just like how Draco and Hermione did. And the best of her was that she wasn't like Narcissa at all. _

_He remembered that she kissed him very gently. His lips quavered against hers. She slid one hand behind his head and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Her fingers became entangled in his hair. Lucius slowly wrapped his arms around her, melting into the feel of her mouth on his. Evelyn could taste his tears as they dripped down his face. When she finally pulled away, they sat, gazing into each other's eyes. He traced the outline of her jaw with his finger. _

_And then, Cassius ran over to the two lovesick couples and tore them apart. Lucius was then given a knife. _

_"Prove your loyalty, or you die." Voldemort said blankly. _

_Lucius stared at her for one moment. She looked at him innocently frightened, as many tears left her eyes. But, he knew he had to do it. He did love her, no doubt about that. But what about Cassius? He was even a worse father than Lucius, and he knew it. _

_Before Lucius knew that he was doing, he lifted the dagger, and brought it to Evelyn's heart. With one slick push, it was in thoroughly. He recalled the day her eyes went lifeless, her body became frail, and her heart stopped beating. _

_He knew it was not a mistake. There was possibly just no way. He did love her in one way, or at least he knew he showed a great amount of affection. But even so… even so…_

_"Well done, Lucius!" Voldemort said proudly. _

_"Good job, son." Cassius said. _

_"Let's clean her up!" Voldemort snapped his fingers, and within two minutes Evelyn was gone…_

At the present, Lucius stared at his son once more. The dagger was placed into his hands, and he held them over to get a better look.

'Make me proud,' the older Malfoy thought.

Draco scrutinized it more, tilting the blade so that the reflection hit the ceiling. His eyes were completely cold, and even if flames danced exotically before him, they'd still remain the same shade of cold grey.

'Hermione,' he thought. 'Look at me. Just **look** at me. _Please_.' His prayer was answered shortly. She turned her head around to stare at him, as he came over to her.

"You know what to do boy," Voldemort hissed under his breath.

Draco ignored him, and continued walking. He stopped once he got to her, and sat down casually. She stared at him in confusion, wondering why not just get this the hell over with?

"I'm not going to do it," Draco said.

"Draco!" hissed Lucius.

"Be quiet, Father!" Draco snapped.

"Excuse me?"

Draco sighed and shook it off with a wave. He stared back at Voldemort. "She doesn't deserve to die a wizard's death."

"Do it, Draco. Just do it!" Hermione said forlornly. "I know I'm dead either way."

He sighed, before wiping her tears with the pad of his thumb. Then he put two hands on her cheek. "Don't ever say that, Mia." He said quietly.

"Don't tell me what to do!" she yelled back angrily as he came closer. Hermione tried to shove him off, but he was too heavy.

"Get the fuck off me, Draco!" But Draco just buried his face into her neck and brought her hands up to clasp them around him. She obliged hesitantly, yet she shakily brought it up to clasp them around his neck. Finally, she could feel the warmth of him, the manly smell of him. She closed her eyes in bliss, trying to savor the moment.

"Do you remember the time you asked me why I loved you, my love?"  he murmured into her skin.

"Yes," she replied softly.

"Remember I couldn't give you a reason?"

"Mm-hmm," came her muffled reply. "But Harry could always give one to Ginny."

"Yes, I know. Well… I've been thinking about it, you see." He said.

Hermione pulled back, her eyes widening. "You have?"

"Yes," he said.

"And…?" she waited patiently, her hands interlacing with his fingers.

"If it's because of your beauty that I love, how can I love if you're covered with cuts and bruises? If it's because of your sweet voice, how can I love if you can't speak? If it's because of your caring and thoughtfulness that I love, how can I love if you can't show them? If it's because of your smile that I love, how can I love you if I cannot see?"

Hermione looked at him solemnly.

Draco went on. "If love needs a reason.. Mia how _do_ I live with a reason? How can I express why I love you if no words exist? No, I still love you. Very much. And I want to tell you that love _needn't_ any reason. But do you still love me?

Tears started welling up in his lover's eyes.

"Even though you brought me through this, yes_.__ Yes, Draco."_ She whispered into his hair.

Draco inhaled once, before opening his eyes. "Then you'll know why I do this." He quickly left his embrace into her neck and took the blade away from her.

'What are you doing now? Just kill me,' she thought.

What happened next was volatile.

With one last whimper, a glimpse of _her_, he brought the dagger right to his heart, before placing it in.

…to be continued…

_Author's Note- I know this chapter sucks and is unbelievable, but I'm really sorry. Finals are just coming next week, and I knew I had to post this to make you guys happy. If you are disappointed, then I won't finish it. But thank you for reading it this far. There is only going to be two chapters left. One chapter and an epilogue. Yes, it is a short story. But this story came from a dream I had. Please review, but if you don't I understand completel._


	6. Miracles

_The Price to Pay for Loving a Dragon _

By Lemust

Chapter 6- Miracles  

Everybody stared in shock at the sight right before their eyes.

Lucius tightened his grip on his cane, and almost made an attempt to reach a little closer, had it not been Voldemort's hand that shot right up to stop him. The pale, blonde man stiffened his back, rolled his eyes around, before targeting them right at the young brunette.

Her eyes were averted from Lucius, and she plunged herself on his son's lifeless body. Hermione kneeled down, grabbing Draco's hand before squeezing it tight.

God, it was so cold.

It was _ever_ so cold and lifeless.

Tears started dribbling down her cheeks, and she swallowed loudly, before wailing again. Everybody in the room stopped to watch the scene. It was almost heartbreaking. Here, a girl by the mere age of 16 had just lost her love to a naive, young boy. She squeezed it more, before pressing her head down to his chest. "Don't leave me, Draco. Please!" she whispered. "I want to feel you. I need you, Draco." She breathed in the faint smell of his cologne. She relaxed ever so gently, for it comforted her. Hermione wanted to feel Draco's hand placed on her Hermione's waist. She needed to see their hands enclosed with one another. She wanted to feel herself melt against the heat of Draco's body. She wanted to gently lean her head against his shoulder, all the while when he slides arm further around her waist, pulling her up against him. She needed to relax and move her hand to the back of his neck. She wanted to feel his fingers tangled in her hair. It would have been the perfect moment she had once, and she'd never have once again. It was the only kind of reality found in dreams.

Clutching his robes tighter, she hugged him more like a little bairn. She interlaced fingers, although he couldn't do anything about it. She clasped her hands shakily once more to his blonde head, tracing the outline of his head. Hermione ignored the strange sounds coming from the Death Eaters, who were witnessing this scene. 

"How sad," Voldemort said sarcastically all the while smirking, finally breaking everybody's quiet silence. He brought his long, slimy fingers up together and clasped them around one another. "Lucius, your son was weakling. Like a little piglet. He died a virgin."

Lucius immediately snapped his head up to Voldemort. '_How dare he say that,' _Lucius thought_._ He could not believe that his master, his Lord, had actually _affronted_ his son. A soft place in his heart had chilled to the bone. It was as if… as if he had insulted him, for he had insulted a part of him. Lucius had never known this, but deep down, in that precious heart of his, he had actually cared for his son. Draco, who had never known it and shall never know now hadn't been aware of it. He recalled the very moment in which he had spoken his first word: _Daddy_. _I've loved you ever since the day you clutched at my robes and wanted me to hold you. I've loved you ever since you called my name. I've loved you before you preferred me to your mother. _It was that night, back in the Malfoy Manor a few years ago when Draco was born. _It was almost yesterday_, it seemed to Lucius.

"How do you know if he was a virgin?" Lucius shot back.

Voldemort rose up from his throne, standing extremely straight. He raised his eyebrows from his hood. "Excuse me?"

Lucius swallowed. "How do you know if he was a virgin?" he repeated.  Hermione turned around and focused her attention on the two, just like everybody else in the room. The Death Eaters gasped, as they stared at the second most powerful man in the room talk back to the Dark Lord.

"Lucius, you will not speak out of turn. If you ever do again, you'll have to pay the price." Voldemort replied.

"No, I won't." Lucius insisted calmly. "You may not tell me what I can and cannot do."

"Nonsense!" Voldemort retorted. "What has gotten into you, Lucius?"

Before he could answer, there was a loud pop! noise in the middle of the room. A tall, thin, old man appeared. He had a long beard that reached past his waist. A pair of sparkling eyes behind full-moon spectacles and a pert nose immediately gave him away.

"What is he doing here? _Dumbledore_." Voldemort hissed. He took out his wand, prepared to fight. But it was too late. A curse was thrown well too soon for Voldemort's liking. A thin jet light started from the tip of Dumbledore's wand all the way to Voldemort's left breast. Dumbledore had drawn his wand up again after that, bringing about a long thin flame. It ran around towards Voldemort, shielding itself around him. The Demon himself finally collapsed in front of everybody. Before Dumbledore could do anything about it though, Lucius suddenly pushed him and straddled the old man's waist. The Death Eaters watched an awe, as if almost this was some illusory stage scene. Lucius threw a punch at the older wizard, before clasping both his hands to enclose around Dumbledore's neck. With one squeeze, the air was sucked out from the old wizard.

Nobody moved.

They couldn't believe it.

One minute, Draco was dead. The next, Voldemort. And shortly after, Dumbledore. Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake!

Mr. Parkinson sighed. "This is wrong. This is very wrong," he said.

And he was right. Because within a few minutes, another thing happened. The room had started glowing. Everything was white, and it was so bright. There were no longer shadows creeping around the corners, and every little detail of the small room had finally brought itself out. But the light had started from the core of the room, where Draco was lying with Hermione next to him.

"What's happening?" said a death eater.

"This is scary!" exclaimed another one.

"You foul cowards!" retorted the next.

"What is it…?"

The question lingered on in the air until the glowing finally stopped. Hermione gasped. Could it be… _resurrection_? No! There was just no way that Draco had gone back to life…

Or was there?

Hermione pressed her head down to Draco's heart, and she swore she heard a faint beat. The air was still around the room. The only sounds were the quiet cadences coming from the other people in the room. Suddenly, a tear drop escaped from her eye. She should have been happy, yet now she was sad. She then replayed everything. Everything that had happened, everything that had brought her to life. And that only came down to one person: Draco. He had showed her everything. He had been her solace, as had she been his. _'Why am I thinking this? Aren't I supposed to be happy now that the place where I've wanted to stand ever since I've been brought here… the place where I wanted to **see** and **feel** once more is back? _Hermione turned to look at Draco again. He…was _breathing_. She saw the rise and fall of his chest. Gently, ever so carefully, she reached up a finger and gently rubbed him against the chest. She made little circles, tickling him until he came to an awake.

"Mia?" he asked.

"Draco?" she echoed, except in a different word. Hermione's eyes started to glow, her face began to flush.

"Don't leave me," he croaked.

"Draco! I won't! Don't leave _me_!" she cried into his chest. He gingerly brought his hands up to the dagger that was still placed inside his heart, and swiftly brought it out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know…" she stared at everybody else. She took his hand in hers. "Do you remember the day that we've met?"

"How can I forget?" he whispered.

"You know, the first day that I've thought about you, it was early in the morning when I awoke. The sun had not risen yet, and there was a definite chill in the air that sent shivers through my body. It was always like this at the beginning of the school year, you know. So, I pulled the blankets up under my chin. For some reason, I was not tired at all even though I had been up very late the night before helping Ron and Harry with their divination homework. Actually, I hadn't really helped them at all." She said with a short laugh. She turned to look back at Draco. He was watching her intently, still holding her hand. So Hermione continued.

"I had spent the majority of the evening researching something that, even now, I was too embarrassed to admit I was actually interested in: love potions. Can you believe that, Draco? Harry and Ron had been too busy discussing the new Quidditch strategy that England's team had come up with to even notice me reading from the tiny little book. It had a red cover and was simply entitled _Love: Make Your Dreams Come True._ You know, I wasn't quite sure what had driven me to check it out of the library. It hadn't been very much help, either. Most of the potions lasted only for a short duration and many had incantations, which needed to be performed in close proximity to the _'object of desire.'"_

"Go on…" he said weakly.

The other Death Eaters listened closely as well, peering in as if listening to a little love story. Hermione ignored them, as did Draco. Lucius stared at his son in awe.

"Iwas thinking about him again, Draco. I was thinking about every little detail I could remember, such as the way that you moved when you walked. You were so confident, so poised. Your body was lean and muscular. I loved the way you brushed your blond hair out of your eyes whenever it tumbled into them. Your eyes, I loved them too, and I often wondered what lay beyond those bluish-grey spheres. Your face was angular, your skin pale, your lips a blushing shade of rose. Whenever you walked into a room, my breath would catch in my throat. You dazzled me." She stopped twirling with their hands and looked at him, fully embarrassed.

He smirked weakly at her, tugging her hand to continue.  

"But… it saddened me. You did not know that I existed; at least, not in the sense I hoped you would. To you, I was another filthy-I had hated to even think the word. Ordinarily, I could shake off those insults, possibly ignore it. But not when you spoke to me. Your words cut at my heart. And I can hear your voice now, your beautiful mellifluous voice: _'Filthy mudblood.'"_

"I'm sorry for calling you that," he said quietly.

"I know you are." And she continued. "After breakfast, Harry and Ron were heading toward Snape's classroom with me in tow.

"I'm just so excited to be going to potions I can't even begin to tell you," remarked Ron sarcastically. He was in good spirits that day.   
  
"I agree," joked Harry. "It is definitely the high point of my day. Especially the fact that Slytherin will be there."   
  
"You know what, Harry? Potions wouldn't be at all bad if we weren't with Slytherin. Well, except for the fact that Snape would still be there." Ron grinned. He hated Snape, but probably not as much as Neville did. "What do you think, Hermione?" Ron waited for an answer. "Hermione?" He turned around and caught me daydreaming. And you know who it was?" She didn't want for an answer. "'Yes, you.   
  
"What? Oh, sorry." I blushed slightly. "Did you ask me something?"   
  
"I was just saying to Harry that potions would be a much better class if we didn't have it with Slytherin, don't you think so?" I felt my face redden even more. The only reason that I tolerated potions was because it was my chance to see you, Draco. But I didn't want to say that in front of Ron or Harry.   
  
"Much, much better," I mumbled. I know they were staring at me strangely, for I had a far-off look in my eyes.   
  
"Hermione, are you okay?" asked Harry, a puzzled expression on his face. I could get lost in thought, but once spoken to, I usually snapped right out of it.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I'm just tired." They neared the classroom door.   
  
"Ladies first," Ron said grandly, making a sweeping motion with his arm.   
  
"I guess that would mean you then, Weasley," came a voice from behind them. Yup, you. I felt a tingle shoot up my spine at the sound of it. Remember, I glanced behind me? You were standing with Crabbe and Goyle, arms folded in front of you. Also, you wore a smug look on his face. Crabbe and Goyle were laughing.   
  
"You know what, Malfoy?" Ron started, but I intervened.   
  
"Ron, come on." I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room before he could get into trouble. Snape would love nothing more than to catch Ron in a fight with you and take fifty points from Gryffindor. You know that, sweetheart. Harry followed after us.   
  
Crabbe and Goyle hi-fived each other, still laughing at your comment to Ron.   
  
"Saved by a girl! If you can call _that_ a girl!" Goyle managed between laughs. "God, you're funny Dra-" But before he could finish his sentence, you had pushed past the two of them and walked into the potions classroom. With his head hung, he crossed the room and took his seat." Hermione sighed, and Draco smiled.

"I remember that day grandly," Draco pronounced. "You know, I had feelings for you too."

"I know." Hermione whispered, bringing back a loose strand of hair behind Draco's ear.

"Do you remember the letter?" he murmured. Hermione leapt down and hugged him tightly.

"How can I ever forget?" she whispered in his ear. Hermione inhaled his scent, sighing blissfully for now. And she lay down, continuing her story. "Later that day, Harry, Ron, and I were walking toward the Great Hall for lunch. Ron had been complaining for the last half hour about his stomach pains, and Harry had chimed in as well. I often wondered why she put up with the two of them the way that I did.   
  
"I hope that lunch is good today," Ron said hungrily. He patted his stomach with his left hand.   
  
"Lunch is always good here," replied Harry. "Where do you think we are? One of those _American_ schools?" He and Ron laughed a bit before they realized I wasn't joining them. "Hermione," Harry called, trying to be helpful, "Snap out of it, will you?" When I didn't respond, he shrugged and continued talking with Ron. They turned a corner.   
  
"Well, well, if it isn't the Great Harry Potter and his sidekick, Weasel." Crabbe somehow always managed to find this an amusing thing to say. As usual, Goyle waddled up next to him.   
  
"So Weasley, is your girlfriend going to rescue you this time, too?"   
  
"Rescue me from what?" Ron had a look of utter annoyance on his face. "Wait," he said, pointing at me, "**She's**_ not_ my girlfriend!"   
  
"Oh, so you can't get a girl either, eh?" The two continued to laugh. "Not that I'd call her a girl." Crabbe said the same thing to her almost daily, usually followed by something like a _bucktoothed_ or a _puffy haired_-- something or other. I felt a sting in my eyes. It hurt so much, Draco. So much. "More like a-"   
  
"Can it, Crabbe," came an unexpected voice. You stepped out of the shadowy hallway, coming as my knight in shining armor. You brushed your blond hair out of your eyes as you continued to speak. "She didn't do anything to you, leave her alone." Ron, Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, and I stared at you in amazement. Not one of us spoke.   
  
You looked rather uncomfortable, Draco. Still as handsome as ever, nonetheless. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You watched as I brushed away the tears that had spilled onto my bright, fat, red cheeks. You felt--." She was interrupted.

"You're not fat. And if you were the size of a whale, I'd still find you the most beautiful creature living." Draco said. Hermione blushed.

"As I was saying, you seemed as if you felt a stab of guilt. By then, the silence was unnerving. Finally, yuou spoke again. "Come on, I'm _starving_." You led Crabbe and Goyle into the Great Hall, glancing at me as you passed by. Your smooth hand brushed against mine, and I felt a small piece of paper pressed into my palm; my fingers closed tightly around it. My heart was beating so loudly I was surprised that the house elves down in the kitchen hadn't come to ask what all the noise was about. I couldn't even concentrate on eating during lunch. I just kept pushing the food around the plate, tapping my feet on the floor, and glancing up at the clock, trying to pass the time quickly. Lunch had never lasted this long before, of this I was absolutely certain. I was dying to see what the piece of paper was about but I couldn't very well open it right here in front of everyone.   
  
"Hermione, for God's sake, eat something, will you?" Ron took another bite of his roll. "I mean," he swallowed and took another bite, "Crabbe is just…an insufferable git." He took a long drink of punch before continuing. "They all are. Don't even worry about those blasted Slytherins." I nodded and took a small bite of my shepherd's pie. As the food rolled around in my mouth, she went over and over the situation that had just occurred in the corridor. Draco Malfoy, you, came to my rescue. The thought put the largest smile on my face. I've wondered if you seen. She could not control it, though. Harry and Ron looked at me as if I had suddenly gone mad.   
  
"Girls," Ron mouthed at Harry, and the two of them laughed it off as they stood to go back to the Gryffindor common room. "Are you coming with us or are you just going to go _completely _insane right here?" Ron wanted to know.   
  
"I'll be along in a moment," I started. "Oh, actually, I forgot. There is a book I need to return to the library. I'll meet you back there." Sometimes, when you have to lie, you have to lie." Hermione said with a smile. "And then, Ron nodded and walked off after Harry who already halfway across the room. Once they were out of sight, I stood and walked briskly toward the hallway. I found an empty classroom and went inside.   
  
I pulled the small piece of paper from my pocket. It was actually much larger than I had thought; you had merely folded it carefully. My hands shaking with anticipation and excitement, as well as dread that it might contain something awful, I slowly opened it.

_Dear Hermione,   
  
I want to start out by saying how sorry I am for everything I have ever done to you. I'd like a chance to explain myself, if you'll give me that, but Lord knows I don't deserve it. _

_If by some small miracle you decide you will hear me out, meet me tonight after dinner in the Great Hall. I know a place where we can talk.   
  
Sincerely yours,  
Draco   
  
P.S. Crabbe is a git. You're a beautiful girl. _

You know, Draco, I sank to the floor, trying to hold back her tears as I read and reread the note. Could it really be true? Yes, and it was. I ran my fingers over the last line, "You're a beautiful girl." I hugged the note to my chest and closed my eyes, leaning back against the wall. As inconceivable as it may seem, my dreams were coming true."

She pulled back from Draco and stared at him. There were a few tears from his eyes that slid down his cheeks, and she looked up and kissed them away.

"I love you."

"And I you." Draco smiled.

All the Death Eaters took off their mask, as if in surrendering. Lucius inhaled sharply. He couldn't believe it. His son, his son was _really_ in **love**.

The other Death Eaters were, in fact so surprised at Draco and Hermione's story that they didn't even notice the loud popping sounds coming in.

As if on cue, right after she ended the story, Harry, Ron, and all the rest of the Order popped in. It looked as if things were going to be back to normal again…

_Epilogue_:

Draco supposed there were advantages to having Ginny as an assistant midwife. It saved him the worry of transporting his wife to St. Mungo's, although Harry had offered to call up the Knight Bus. It had, surprisingly, listened to him and waited patiently outside the Malfoy Manor. Ginny was waiting just as patiently, ignoring his pacing, and especially, Hermione's swearing.

"Don't worry! The doctor will be here any minute!" Ginny exclaimed.

"What the hell was I thinking?" Hermione gasped as she clutched the side of a birthing tub Ginny had demanded be imported. She looked around desperately. "This is just too much!"

"It's transition," Ginny said serenely. She then patted Hermione's arm lightly. "You just hang on."

"Hang on?" Hermione shouted. "You go through this and then tell me to hang on, you-." Draco listene, openmouthed to a very long list of names his wife called her beloved friend. He gaped at Ginny as she turned and smiled at him.

"Would you believe," she said, unruffled, "that Hermione worried that women in labor didn't have enough breath for long sentences?"

"That wasn't exactly a long sentence," Draco ventured. "It was a very long list of foul names." He smirked, looking at his wife. "Really, Hermione… perhaps you should-"

"And _you_," she said, gasping, with tears streaming down her face. "I hate you! You did this to me you miserable piece of dick-brained, horseshit slime-sucking son of a whore bitch!"

Draco smirked again, before sitting down next to Hermione. He breathed gentle words of comfort soothingly into her hair, before straightening it with his finger, only to let the curl bounce back up again. "Hermione, don't swear. The baby will hear you. You want him to remember this day, don't you?"

Hermione stared at him in horror. "It's a girl!"

"Will not be."

"Yes it will!"

"Mia, you know a Malfoy always gets what he wants. And I want a son, and that is what I will get."

"Sometimes you can be the foulest man on Earth, others, the sweetest. How I ever fell in love with you is a miracle." Hermione then puffed out, long, deep breaths.

"It's okay, my love." Draco whispered, taking her hand in his. "We're in this together. The doctor will come soon, I promise." Draco had heard stories about the joy of childbirth, the overwhelming nature of the experience, the bonding that occurred between husband and wife. He wanted that to happen in his own life. Yet, now he suspected his lover wanted to kill him.

Nay, he didn't suspect it. He _knew_ it.

Just then, the doctor appeared in the room. He had a long beard, and simply resembled a man everybody in the room once knew.

He beckoned the father to follow him out of the room, where they could talk in private.

"I want to wish you on your lovely wife and her wonderful process during childbirth," he started, looking deeply into Draco's eyes.

The now blonde man nodded.

"Yes?"

"And… I wanted to say something concerning those many years ago, during the last and final war. I wanted to say that what you have with your wife is very rare. It's called 'true love', which happens to be the most powerful kind of magic in all. That because you were both willing to sacrifice your own lives for each other, you two young ones were given a second chance. Just remember this, love is magic in and of itself."

Before Draco could respond, he walked back into the room. There was something very odd about him, Draco thought. Perhaps it was the lovely twinkle in those very light blue eyes of his.

Shaking his head, Draco walked back into the delivery room.

But seven hours later, after the work was done, his daughter had made her entrance into the world, and his wife was looking up at him with love in her eyes and tears streaming down her face. Ginny and the Doctor handed him the baby.

Draco accepted her, that small, helpless little creature that had lived nestled under his wife's heart for a shy nine months, stared down into her fathomless grey eyes and found himself rendered quite speechless. His life even shuddered from the joy of it. His eyes met Hermione's.

"She's beautiful, Mia. Just like you. Just like how I promised you our children will be." Hermione smiled even more through her tears, nodding.

"She is."

Draco held the baby as Ginny and the doctor tended to Hermione, gave her up to Ginny's loving arms to help Hermione out of the tub, then knelt down by the bed. Hermione then held her ten-minute-old daughter and put her to her swollen breast. She looked at Draco.

"What should we call her?"

He'd thought about it for a good amount of months. Almost nine. A name for the first flower to bloom in their garden. He only hoped that Hermione would agree wit h him.

"I have a name in mind," he said slowly, almost drawling.

"What is it?" she looked up at him with shining, cinnamon eyes.

Draco paused, looking at the wee babe, and then back at his love. "I think," he continued, "that we should call her Hope."

"Oh, Draco." She whispered.

"It's what you brought me," he said, kneeling down next to her. "Twice now, my love. First when you came into my life, and now again with the gift of my daughter." Draco bent down to kiss Hermione passionately, before pecking his daughter's forehead.

"I told you it'd be a girl," Hermione said teasingly.

Draco smirked, as his heart settled within him and whispered contently of peace. Also of beautiful things blossoming in his life. And of hope.

For now, it was enough.

…the end…

_Author's Note- Argh! I hope this chapter turned out to be how you peeps wanted it to be. Damn, it still doenst make sense. Please forgive me. I might remove it if you people hate it. Yet, now I'm back in the fanfiction world and I'll start a new story soon, perhaps. Well, please pass this fic on to others and you'll be greatly rewarded? Besides, didn't you know that kindness means that you have a special place in your heart in which you keep your most deepest desires in? I know that doesn't make any sense, but if you think about it methodically, you'd value it. Please review! _

_Oh God I cried when I wrote this. Actually, truth be told I was listening to the 'Love Theme' from the old classic movie Romeo and Juliet from 1973 or something. This was made in the balcony scene. It just warmed my heart. And I hope this fic warmed yours. Please review! _

_God bless everybody who read it. _

_God bless everybody who reviewed! _


End file.
